Stay
by oucellogal
Summary: Lilly Rush has a new job, a new badge, and a new partner, but when the FBI sends her back to Philadelphia for a case, she's forced to confront all she left behind. Meanwhile, Scotty Valens has been trying hard to get over the pain of Lilly's departure. How will seeing her again affect him? Romance, angst, crime drama, and hopefully some humor. :) Post-series finale.
1. I Made It

**Stay**

A/N: Why, hello! Told you it wouldn't be too long until you heard from me again. ;)

After I wrote my one-shot, "Say Something," wherein Lilly actually takes the FBI job, I began to be intrigued by the possibilities that might arise had Lilly, in fact, left Philadelphia and the Cold Case squad. It is important to note, though, that this is not a sequel to "Say Something," merely a story exploring a similar circumstance.

The title of this story comes from the Florida Georgia Line song by the same name. If this story were to have a theme song, that would be it, although (spoiler alert) I do not, at this point, plan to have anyone set a mobile home on fire.

Another note: although I have largely stuck to series canon in this, I won't be dealing with any of the Scotty/Jimmy Mota stuff, simply because I can't come up with a satisfying way to incorporate that arc and keep Scotty out of jail. For an excellent recent story that does deal with the Mota stuff far better than anything I've come up with, check out "Metamorphoses" by little dark starling.

Welcome back, and I hope you enjoy this story!

* * *

**Chapter One**

**I Made It**

It was just sitting there. In the box. Looking up at her.

The fluorescent lights of the office kitchen glistening off its sugar-coated surface, the one remaining donut from that morning's dozen almost dared whoever might have popped in for a fresh cup of joe to consider its solitary state, pick it up, and polish it off.

In this case, that happened to be Lilly Rush.

Since relocating to Washington, D. C. with the FBI four months prior, Lilly had jumped into her new job with both feet and, for the most part, shelved the box of memories of her years working cold cases with Philadelphia Homicide. But sometimes, those memories poked their heads out anyway.

Like now, when the sight of a stupid donut brought to mind Kat and Nick's incessant bickering. Jeffries' quiet strength. Boss's constant care for those on his watch. And Scotty…

"You got designs on that, new girl?"

Lilly blinked, startled, as one of her colleagues, a middle-aged blonde man with black-framed glasses and a graying beard, entered the kitchen to freshen his coffee. "On what?" she asked.

"That donut."

"Oh, no." Her hand fluttered dismissively in the air. "Go ahead. Take it."

Coffee sloshed from the glass carafe into her fellow agent's mug. She thought his name was Murphy, but her brain was so overfull from training and travel that she couldn't be certain.

"Thanks, but I better not." He patted his ample stomach, then flitted his eyes over her from head to toe in an evaluation that, although not unkind or disrespectful, was certainly thorough. "Wouldn't hurt you, though."

With a sigh, Lilly sipped her coffee and watched her co-worker, whatever his name was, carry his steaming mug out of the kitchen. No, she supposed the donut wouldn't hurt. The dual stresses of relocating and learning the ropes of a new job had taken a toll on her sleep and her appetite, leaving her without an abundance of either. Clothes that had fit perfectly in Philly now hung just loose enough that she'd recently had to carve out precious time to go shopping, a pastime she loathed under the best of circumstances. She'd have almost rather gotten her teeth cleaned.

At least now, though, she had the money to spring for a new wardrobe. Being a federal agent did have its perks.

Truth be told, Lilly loved her new job. _Loved _it. The high stakes, the fast pace. The pride filling her heart when she fastened the shiny gold badge every morning, when she ran a fingertip over the ornately carved eagle at the top of it. _Special Agent Rush, FBI_. Four months into the job, and the excitement that zinged through her every time she introduced herself was as strong as ever.

If only the same could be said about her relationships with her squad. It wasn't that they didn't get along; from what she saw of them, everyone got along fine. They were a conglomeration of cordial co-workers united by a common passion, a group who nodded good morning and never bickered over breakfast…but they weren't family.

"Morning, Rush."

Lilly looked up to see the wavy salt-and-pepper hair and sharp blue eyes of her partner. At least here was one name she knew.

"Mornin', Tom." She indicated the almost-empty white cardboard box. "There's a donut left, if you want it."

"Wouldn't know where to put it." The lines around Special Agent Tom Nichols' eyes and mouth deepened with his amusement as he reached up into the cabinet for his coffee mug. "Rita made her standard welcome home breakfast."

"Pancakes, fruit salad, and Canadian bacon, right?"

"Good memory, Special Agent."

Lilly grinned. "Well, no wonder you don't have any room for a donut."

"Gotta eat while the eating's good." Nichols poured coffee into his usual Texas Rangers mug, steam billowing from the carafe. "I ran into the boss on the elevator this morning; he said something about a road trip."

"Another one?" Lilly's brows lifted. "We just got back from Boston yesterday."

"Tell me about it," Nichols flashed a grin. "Thank God for FaceTime, or I don't think I'd recognize Sophie and Oliver anymore."

Lilly chuckled. Her partner's twin fourteen-year-olds were his pride and joy. He never complained, not really, but she knew the constant time away from his wife and kids sometimes wore on him.

"Oh. Almost forgot." Her partner paused, the coffee mug halfway to his lips. "Donaldson said something about this job needing your expertise."

"_My_ expertise?" Lilly frowned over the rim of her cup. "I'm barely out of training."

With a slight shrug, Nichols started toward the doorway. "Don't know any more than you do, Rush. All I know is he wanted to meet with us first thing."

"Then let's go." Coffee in hand, Lilly started to stride out of the kitchen, then paused, one hand on the metal doorframe.

Nichols turned around. "You coming?"

"Yeah. I'll…be right there."

That one lonely donut was still sitting in the box, waiting to be chosen. She almost felt sorry for it. In Philly, it would've been admired, lusted after, planned for, fought over, and ultimately devoured with plenty of celebratory trash-talking from the victor. Here, it just sat so forlorn that finally, she grabbed a napkin and snatched up the pastry.

With a small, smug smile, Lilly sank her teeth into the gooey, shockingly sweet dough, then headed out with it and her partner into her new boss's office.

Being a federal agent did indeed have its perks.

* * *

"That's the third time this week, you jackass!"

The angry exclamation from the kitchen caused Scotty Valens to glance up, curious as to what he'd done this time. More often than not these last few months, when the word 'jackass' left Kat Miller's lips, he was on the receiving end of it.

Unless food was involved. And from the empty Dunkin' Donuts box in the kitchen and the half-eaten chocolate twirl in Nick Vera's hand, it seemed this time, Scotty was off the hook.

His partner stormed back into the squad room, empty-handed but for a mug of coffee. "Unbelievable."

"What?" Vera asked around a fresh bite of donut. "You never eat breakfast. Said so yourself."

"This ain't breakfast, it's a mid-mornin' snack." Kat's heavy mass of twisted hair practically vibrated with her fury.

"Hey, the first thing you eat on any given day is breakfast. Especially if it's only…"

Scotty glanced at his watch. "8:03 AM."

"8:03 AM. _Thank_ you." Vera popped the rest of the disputed donut into his mouth.

"Yeah? Well, my day starts at five," Kat sat down heavily in her chair. "_Five. _That's how early I gotta get up to get Veronica's ass ready and out the door on time. So to me, it's mid-mornin', and I'm _hungry_."

"Then maybe you oughta start eatin' breakfast." Vera crumpled the thin sheet of waxed paper in his fist and clanged it into a nearby trash can. "Right, Scotty?"

Scotty's eyes never left the form he was filling out. "Oh, no way. I ain't gettin' in the middle of this. You two and your food fights are none of my business."

"Since when?" Vera sounded incredulous.

"Since Miller became my partner. I got a vested interest in not pissin' her off."

He felt, rather than saw, the triumphant smirk from Kat and the annoyed glare from Vera, who then launched into a lengthy diatribe on why mid-morning didn't start, not officially anyway, until at least nine-thirty. Scotty, however, tuned it out and turned his attention back to his paperwork. He had to stay in the zone, because if he didn't, he'd remember _why _Miller was his partner. His eyes might wander over to that empty desk. He might even see a ghostly image of his old partner, deep in thought, a slight smile on her face. If that happened, the gaping hole she'd gouged in his heart might start to throb again.

And he was over that. Over _her_.

Besides, they'd just opened a new case. That always got Scotty's blood pumping. There was something fresh, something invigorating, about a clean murder board, about taking the lids off dusty evidence boxes and starting to answer all the agonizing questions some poor schmuck's people had been left with for God alone knew how many years.

"Morning, everyone."

Scotty glanced up to see John Stillman standing a few paces in front of their little cluster of desks, arms laced behind his back. His steely gaze flitted around the group, lingering just for a second on the empty desk.

Scotty kept his eyes up. He wasn't going there. Not today.

"Where are we this morning?" the boss asked.

"Frannie just dropped off the autopsy report." Kat flipped open the file, her index finger skimming along the lines she was reading. "Dental records confirm our vic is Shane Lucas, age thirty-six. Cause of death looks like a broken neck."

Stillman took off his glasses and held them in his right hand. "Did we get the box over from Missing Persons yet?"

"Right here, John." Will Jeffries patted the large cardboard box straddling the space between his desk and Vera's. "Lucas was an accountant at P3 Global. Last seen at a staff meeting there on January 15, 2008; hadn't been heard from since."

Kat's brow furrowed. "P3…ain't that the snazzy sports agency on Sixth?"

"Yeah." Vera's eyes lit. "They represent all the who's who of Philly sports."

"Have we notified the family?" Stillman asked.

"Parents are on their way in." Will's voice took on the heaviness of the moment.

Stillman nodded. "I'll talk to them."

"Miller and I can hit P3," Scotty volunteered. "See if anyone there can shed some light."

"Good idea." Stillman put his glasses back on. "Nicky, you and Will go talk to the neighbors. See if anyone can remember anything unusual."

The four detectives murmured their assent, and their little corner of the office was soon filled with the rustling of papers and coats and the scraping of chairs as they prepared to head out on their various missions.

Scotty didn't even glance at his old partner's desk on the way out.

* * *

Assistant Special Agent in Charge Craig Donaldson greeted Lilly and her partner with a perfunctory nod. "Morning, Nichols. Rush."

"Morning, sir." Despite the fact that Donaldson was indeed her boss, she couldn't quite use that title with him.

Donaldson shuffled through some papers on his desk. "I got a call from one of our field agents in Philly."

The mention of her hometown sent a jolt through Lilly's body that even the strongest cup of coffee and sugariest donut couldn't match. "Philly?"

"There's been a body turn up on a cold job," Donaldson fixed Lilly and Nichols with a hawk-like stare. "Shane Lucas. He was an informant for our white collar crimes division during an investigation into some alleged money laundering and other improprieties at a sports agency there called P3 Global. Vanished without a trace in January 2008, just a few months after he started working with us."

Nichols nodded. "I remember hearing about that from a buddy of mine."

"With no body and an ongoing investigation, we couldn't dig too deep back then." Donaldson said. "But now, as long as we use due caution, we can proceed."

Lilly's detective radar stirred to life. "Where'd they find him?"

"Basement of an old hotel downtown. Workers found it yesterday during some renovations." Donaldson peered at her over the rims of his wire-rimmed glasses. "I'm glad you're taking such a keen interest in this one, Rush."

"Just doin' my job, sir."

"Well, it looks like your job's gonna take you back home."

Lilly blinked in surprise. "Home."

Donaldson's long, thin countenance allowed just a hint of a smile. "Your old squad's been looking into this one since the discovery, and given the…warm welcome…local police tend to give us when we come to town, I thought it might make things easier for everyone involved if they saw a familiar face."

Lilly's mind started whirling. Forget the memories poking their heads out. Now they'd started to crawl out of their box on the shelf and were staring her in the face, demanding that she acknowledge them. She couldn't decide whether she wanted to cheer or flee in the opposite direction.

"Pack your bags, both of you." Donaldson looked up from his desk, glancing from Lilly to Nichols and back again. "Lieutenant Stillman is expecting you two this afternoon."

With a curt nod, he dismissed them, and Lilly turned and headed back out, her heart hammering, her body flooding with energy and emotion.

She was going home.


	2. Just What I Needed

**A/N: **Wow, thank you all so much for the kind reviews! It thrills me to no end that you're so excited about this story, just as I'm excited to share it with you! I do always try to reply to each review personally, but I wanted to thank you all again for your support. (And Jessica, thanks for the guest review!)

**Disclaimer: **Cold Case characters are the property of their owners, but they're too awesome to just sit on a shelf and be ignored. Other characters are mine.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**Just What I Needed**

The old squad room hadn't changed a bit.

The same buzzing, flickering fluorescent lights. The same smell, a combination of musty documents, copy-machine toner, and stale coffee. The same ringing phones and humming conversations. The same quietly determined energy.

Her heart racing, Lilly scanned the room, eagerly searching for five familiar faces, but saw none of them. She wasn't surprised. This time of day, just after one in the afternoon, they were usually all out of the office, either conducting interviews or grabbing a quick lunch.

But even with their occupants gone, the little cluster of desks brought a smile. Kat's was still adorned with pictures of Veronica, a half-finished, lipstick-ringed mug of coffee, and a napkin bearing traces of donut crumbs. Will's workspace was still as neat and orderly as Nick's was a tornado-stricken disaster, littered with fast-food wrappers and a collection of coffee cups. The Odd Couple, those two; never had she seen two partners more different, yet more uniquely suited to one another.

Well. Okay. She had.

Nostalgia wrapping around her like a cozy blanket, Lilly let her eyes fall on Scotty's desk and linger there, taking in the scattered reminders of her former partner. A stack of papers in the center. His favorite pen lying diagonally across them, the tip pointing to his firm, decisively scrawled signature. A mostly-empty PPD coffee mug, no doubt the result of prolonged tinkering with cream and sugar in his ongoing efforts to make the office brew somewhat palatable. She trailed an absent hand over the back of his chair, basking in the presence that was still strong even in his physical absence. He was here. They were _all _here, and before too long, she'd be seeing them.

And there was her desk. Well, her old desk. Her fingers skated over its smooth, barren surface. Had they not filled her spot? It wouldn't surprise her, with the budget being what it was, and the low priority the Department put on the cold jobs in general. Most likely, her old squad was simply being expected to do the same, or more, with less.

"Good to be home?"

Lilly answered Nichols' twinkling blue eyes and knowing query with a sheepish half-smile. For a moment, she'd forgotten he was even there.

"Well, the field office said a couple of federal agents were on their way," a familiar voice piped up behind her, "but they didn't tell me you were one of 'em."

Lilly turned around to see John Stillman standing just outside his office, a wide grin lighting his face.

"Hey, Boss." Beaming, she crossed the room and stepped into the outstretched arms of her old lieutenant for a brief, affectionate embrace. His silvery, close-cropped hair tickled her cheek; the warmth of his arms spoke of strength and security. These, too, remained unchanged.

"We sure have missed you around here." Still smiling, the boss gave her a friendly pat on the back as they parted. "Place just isn't the same without you, Lil."

"Thanks." Lilly tucked a stray wisp of blonde hair behind her ear. "It's, uh…it's good to be home."

Stillman turned toward Nichols. "And you must be her new partner."

"Yes, sir. Special Agent Tom Nichols."

"Lieutenant John Stillman." The two men exchanged a friendly handshake. "I trust Lil is proving a valuable asset to your unit."

Nichols tossed a grin in her direction. "Oh, she's outstanding. Feisty. Won't back down from anything."

"That's our girl." His eyes shining, Stillman gave Lilly a quick once-over. "They treatin' you all right?"

Lilly grinned. "Workin' me half to death, but other than that, no complaints."

"Well, you were used to that here." Stillman turned to Nichols with a conspiratorial smile. "I practically had to twist her arm just to get her to go home for the night."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Nichols replied. "Rush is one of the most dedicated, hardest-working agents I've ever seen."

Pride filled Lilly's heart at receiving such a glowing review from her partner. After all the training, it seemed he finally thought of her as an equal.

The lieutenant gave Lilly another fond, almost paternal smile before turning back to Nichols, all business. "I understand you two are here on the Lucas job?"

Nichols nodded. "There someplace we can talk?"

"Sure. Step into my office." Stillman held the door open and stood aside so Lilly and her partner could enter the small, sun-drenched space. Nothing had changed here, either. The same metal blinds clanking against the glass door, the same medals and plaques decorating the walls, the same slightly dusty assortment of old books and war memorabilia.

Lilly took a deep breath of the familiar air and let out a contented sigh. Oh, it was so good to be home.

* * *

"Yeah, okay. Okay. Yeah. Thanks." Scotty's phone gave a quiet beep as he pressed _End,_ slipped it back into his pocket, and turned toward his partner. "Connor Thompson's alibi checks out. He really was in Hawaii the day of the murder."

"Course he was." Kat seemed unimpressed. "You seriously expect Philadelphia's most powerful sports agent to get his own hands dirty?"

"If he's even involved," The ding of the elevator and the sliding of doors punctuated Scotty's argument, and the two detectives stepped out and headed for the squad room.

"He's involved with _something_," Kat insisted over the glass rim of a bottled Frappuccino. "That dude is slimier than an eel."

Scotty stood aside and let his partner enter the office ahead of him. "Hey, just because he's a sports agent doesn't mean he's slimy, Miller."

"Oh, right. I forgot." She tossed him a withering glance over her shoulder. "_You_ can't be partial in this investigation."

"Why not?" That from Vera, who was stationed at his desk, clicking away at the computer.

"Because of his _boyfriend." _Kat drained the last of her Frappuccino and set the empty bottle on her desk with a thunk.

Vera cocked his head to the side and studied Scotty for a moment. "I could see it."

"Ain't even gonna dignify that." Shrugging out of his jacket, Scotty draped it over the back of his chair.

"Oh, my _God, _Ryan _Howard? _ Is that _you? _Ooh! Ooh! I'm your biggest fan,_" _Kat mocked in a breathy, love-struck tone that, if it were meant to be an imitation of Scotty's voice, it was a piss-poor one, then actually started _batting her eyelashes_. "I can't believe it's really you! Is it? Is it really you? Are you _really _Ryan Howard? Oh, I _love _you. Really. I-I wanna marry you and have your little baseball babies! Pinch me, Miller! I'm dreamin'! _Ryan. Freakin'. Howard."_

Scotty sat down at his desk and glared briefly at his partner. "I didn't say…all of that."

"Please." Kat rolled her eyes. "You acted like Veronica at the One Direction concert."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait a minute, wait a minute." Vera looked like he was about to burst. "You met _Ryan Howard_?"

A self-satisfied grin tugging at his lips, Scotty reached into his coat pocket, grabbed his phone, which, conveniently, already had the hour-old photo of him with Ryan Howard-_Ryan Howard!-_installed as its wallpaper, and plopped it onto Vera's desk. "Read it and weep, Nicky."

"You got a _photo?" _Vera studied the phone for a minute, then shoved it back toward Scotty. "Prick."

"Photo, autograph, the whole works," Kat settled smugly into her seat, her tone suggesting a strange duality of annoyance with him and gloating toward Vera.

"Shook his hand, too," Scotty couldn't resist adding. He took just a moment to admire his phone before placing it on his desk and rolling up his shirtsleeves.

"_Damn_," Vera exclaimed. "I am so friggin' jealous of you right now."

Kat smirked. "That's what happens when you steal my breakfast, Nick. Karma's a bitch."

Vera shot Kat a look that suggested karma wasn't the only thing he felt fit that description, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

After a moment, Scotty felt Vera's eyes on him. Specifically, on his right hand. "What?"

"Can I?" the burly detective asked in an almost reverent tone.

Scotty extended his hand. "Sure."

"Wow." Vera stroked the palm of Scotty's hand, then shivered. "Ryan Howard. I'm touchin' the hand that touched _Ryan Howard._"

Kat shook her head. "You two are idiots."

"Hey." Vera stared up at Kat. "The man helped lead Philly to our first championship in twenty-five years. Six RBIs and three home runs in the '08 Series alone. Recognize."

Scotty gazed almost lovingly at his right hand, remembering how it felt in the firm grasp of one of his favorite Phillies players. "Never washin' this again."

"Okay, now you're _disgusting_ idiots," Kat grumbled.

A wicked grin curving his lips, Scotty wiggled his fingers toward his partner's face, thoroughly enjoying how she recoiled in horror. "Get that thing away from me!"

"I don't even wanna know, do I?"

Scotty looked up to see Jeffries arriving back in the squad room, eyeing the both of them with curiosity as he shed his jacket and sat down at his desk.

"_No,_" Kat replied.

"Valens met Ryan Howard," Vera said, a still-jealous look in his eyes.

Jeffries flicked him a glare. "Lucky bastard."

Scotty smirked in triumph at the room in general. A photo. An autograph. _And _a handshake. The triple play. The hat trick. The trifecta. Wait until he told his dad. And his brother? Mr. Corporate Box Season Tickets? Let Mikey be jealous of _him _for a change. Yes, whatever else this day held, it was already inked as one of the best of Scotty's entire life. _Ryan. Freaking. Howard._

"Anything on the case?" Jeffries' voice sounded almost pointed, but it didn't dampen Scotty's euphoria.

"Just a conversation with Connor Thompson," he replied, with elaborate casualness.

Vera's head snapped up. "_The_ Connor Thompson?"

"Oh, my God, _enough."_ Kat slammed open her notes. "Yes, _the _Connor Thompson. Dude's slimy, and he's involved in somethin', no matter what Mrs. Ryan Howard over here wants to believe..."

"Hey," Scotty protested.

"But he ain't our doer. Alibi checks out."

"He did say he thought Lucas had been seein' the staff shrink." Scotty leaned back in his chair and glanced through his own scribblings from the interview. "And not as a patient, if you get my drift."

"Nice." Vera reached for the enormous soft drink off to his left, no doubt left over from lunch.

"Well, you got a lot more than we did," Jeffries replied. "Hardly anyone was even home. Left lots of cards; haven't heard back."

"And the ones we did talk to gave us the usual 'nice guy, kept to himself' bullshit. Like _that's _helpful." Vera slurped the last of his beverage, the straw squawking when he reached the bottom of the cup.

"Stop that." Jeffries cut an annoyed glance at his partner. "Anyone talked to the shrink yet? Maybe she can shed some light on this."

"Well…I think_ I_ can."

That voice stopped Scotty cold.

Every muscle in his body tensed one by one, from the corners of his jaw to the tips of his toes. His skin flushed hot; a chill shot the length of his spine. Oh, sure, he'd "seen" his former partner here and there in the months since her departure, but never had his hallucinations involved the sound of her voice. Especially not, oh, ten feet behind him, just off to his left.

Never had his imagination caused three other pairs of surprised eyes to snap up at the same time, either.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in!" A wide grin began to melt slowly across Will's face, and Scotty knew. He _knew_. He knew that the second he turned around, he wasn't just going to see some faded figment of his imagination leaning against kitchen counter or standing in the evidence room combing through one of those white cardboard boxes. He was going to see _her. _

Scotty took a second to brace himself, swallowed hard, then slowly, ever so slowly, turned around.

Sparkling blue eyes, like the ocean on a summer day. A shimmering waterfall of cornsilk blonde hair. Porcelain skin, slender figure, endless legs…and that pert mouth, widening in a smile that managed to be both apprehensive and excited. Yes, she was here, all right. All of her. In the flesh.

For a moment, all he could do was stare, and then the name he hadn't spoken in four long months slipped past his lips.

"Lil."


	3. Do You Remember

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own the Cold Case characters.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**Do You Remember**

"Well, don't just stand there."

Kat's voice was barely audible over the nervous, excited pounding of Lilly's heart. Eyes twinkling, her former colleague stepped forward, arms outstretched, and pulled her into a warm embrace. "Welcome back, Lil."

"Thanks, Kat. Good to see you." Lilly gave her friend a squeeze. "You keepin' the boys in line?"

Kat stepped back with a shrug and a wry grin. "It's different, y'know. Bein' the only girl."

"Yeah." Lilly remembered how lonely it was at times, being the first female murder cop in Philly, and how relieved she'd been when Miller arrived a few years later. Although the two had never gone out shopping or gotten pedicures together, as she supposed normal girlfriends did, the two women of Homicide had developed a quiet camaraderie that Lilly hadn't realized just how much she would miss.

"Not sure I wanna get too close to you now that you've gone over to the Dark Side." Will Jeffries' twinkling eyes and smooth, broad smile belied the severity in his tone as he leaned down for a brief hug.

"Oh, the dark side's not so bad." Lilly grinned over his shoulder. "I actually get to eat a donut every now and then."

Will chuckled. "Nice to have you back."

Vera was next."You went somewhere? Barely noticed." But the bone-crushing bear hug into which he enveloped her suggested otherwise.

Lilly smiled against the wilted, off-white fabric of his shirt. "Yeah, missed you, too, Nick."

When Vera turned to amble back to his desk, Lilly found herself face to face with Scotty Valens for the first time in four months. She hadn't realized how full her heart would be at the sight of him until he stood there in front of her, in the flesh.

"Scotty," she bubbled, reaching for him.

His mouth twitched in a ghost of a grin. "Hey."

Lilly pulled him into her arms, rested her chin on his shoulder, and closed her eyes to savor his warmth, his closeness, the protective strength of his embrace. A sudden thrill zinged through her when she caught a whiff of his aftershave, the same scent he'd splashed on every morning for as long as she could remember. Musk, spice, and yes, a hint of something flowery, no matter how much he might protest. A soft, contented sigh slipped past her lips. For the first time since April, she felt like she was home.

She wanted to linger, and would have, but the stiff discomfort emanating from her former partner gave her pause. His jaw twitched against her temple; his muscles grew taut at her touch. Her brow creasing, Lilly stepped back and tried to capture his gaze, but he was already turning away.

"Now, I ain't dumb enough to think you're just back for a friendly visit." This from Kat, perched on the edge of a nearby desk.

Lilly stashed away her confusion. "No, I'm here, w_e're_ here, because of Shane Lucas." She smiled toward Nichols, who stood off to her left, next to Stillman. "Everyone, this is my partner, Special Agent Tom Nichols. Tom…" she indicated the room with a sweep of her hand. "This is everyone."

A flurry of handshakes and introductions followed, after which Nichols slipped a glossy photo from his file and clipped it to the whiteboard. "Now, I'd like y'all to meet Connor Thompson, President and CEO of P3 Global. Our financial crimes division has been building a case against him and his associates for almost three years."

Across the room, Kat flicked a triumphant glance at Scotty. "Told you that eel was up to somethin'."

"What's this got to do with Shane Lucas?" Vera asked.

"Your victim was our key informant," Nichols' studious gaze flitted around the little group. "Vanished without a trace until two days ago, when agents at our field office here called to say you'd found his body."

"So what you're sayin' is...this is your case now," Scotty griped from where he sat slouched at his desk, toying with his pen.

Lilly was irked, but her partner seemed unruffled. "We're not here to piss all over your territory, Detective," he replied pleasantly. "We're here to work together and solve a murder."

Scotty scowled up at both of them. "But you're takin' the lead."

"Valens," Stillman warned from behind her.

Glancing from her old partner to her new one, Lilly found Nichols' blue eyes glittering with amusement. He leaned in close to her ear. "There's always one."

Lilly answered with a tight smile. Every time they worked with a local police department, Nichols had taught her to anticipate a particularly frosty reception from at least one. But she sure as hell didn't expect to find that here. Definitely not from Scotty.

Stillman stepped forward. "Now that we know the whole story on what Lucas was up to, we can really start digging."

"Anyone talk to Thompson yet?" Nichols asked.

"Scotty and I did," Kat replied. "This mornin'. Alibi checks out; Thompson was in Honolulu the day of the murder."

"He may not have done the deed, but that doesn't mean he wasn't involved." Nichols glanced at his watch. "Fortunately, we know he takes a late lunch, and I know exactly where he likes to go." Pulling the keys to the Suburban from his pocket, he smiled around at the group. "Anyone wanna come with?"

Vera perked up. "A late lunch with _the _Connor Thompson? Hell, yeah, I'm in." He cut a sly glance in Scotty's direction. "Maybe he'll have one of his clients with him and I can get a photo of my own."

"Can it, Nick," Kat ordered. "We've had enough fangirlin' around here for one day." This last bit, accompanied by a teasing grin, was also, for some reason, aimed at Scotty.

"Bite me, Miller," he grumbled, and her grin morphed into an outright smirk and a triumphant cackle.

At this interplay of meaningful glances and inside jokes, a twinge akin to jealousy thrummed in Lilly's chest. She entertained it for only a brief moment before ordering it into silence. She'd been gone for months. It was only natural for the squad to close up whatever hole had been left at her departure. Nature abhors a vacuum, after all. Still, she couldn't help but feel like she was on the outside, pressed up against the glass, trying to catch a glimpse of the magic within. It was an odd feeling to have in this room.

"Later, kids. Don't wait up." Vera grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and strode toward the exit with Nichols.

Stillman turned his attention to the remaining members of the squad. "Where are we on the neighbors, Will?"

"Still got a few calls to return," Jeffries replied.

Stillman nodded. "Miller, go back through the original files from Missing Persons. See if the fact that Lucas was workin' with the Feds can help identify any suspects they couldn't two years ago."

"On it, Boss." Kat pulled a file from the box and started to glance through it.

Stillman turned toward her. "Rush."

"Yeah, Boss?" She flushed slightly at how easily the old title slipped out of her mouth.

"Shane Lucas is rumored to have been involved with the staff therapist at P3. Go talk to her, see what she knows."

Lilly smiled. With Nichols gone and Stillman giving orders, it was almost like she'd never left.

"And take Scotty with you." The lieutenant's lips quirked in a hint of a grin. "I'm sure you two have a lot of catchin' up to do."

Lilly hazarded a cautious glance at her old partner. Maybe Nichols was right. Maybe this was nothing more than Scotty feeling threatened by Federal interference. God knew she was less than thrilled six months ago when Diane Yates stormed in and took over, and she was pretty sure Scotty had felt the same.

"C'mon, Valens." She forced a brightness into her voice she didn't feel. "I'll even let you drive."

Avoiding her eyes, he shrugged into his jacket and made for the exit. "Don't got a choice, Rush. You turned in the keys four months ago, remember?"

"What's with him?" Kat asked. Lilly glanced over to see her studying her partner's retreating back.

Jeffries lifted the desk phone to his ear and started to dial. "He'll get over it."

Taking one last glance around the squad room, Lilly took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She hoped like hell Will was right. For everyone's sake.

* * *

He'd always held the car door open for Lilly. Always. Even when they were fighting. Even when he hated her.

His mother had taught him well.

So now, barely ten minutes removed from one of the more jarring surprises of his life, Scotty held the door open and watched her slide into the department-issued beige Taurus.

"Just like old times, huh?" The smile she flashed him, brighter even than the merciless sun overhead, was a punch to the gut. Grunting softly with the force of it, he shut the door behind her and walked as slowly as he dared around the back of the car, the keys biting into the palm of his hand.

It was just the shock. That's all it was. That's why all these feelings, feelings he thought he'd beaten out of himself months ago, were churning around in his gut and making him feel nauseous. What man wouldn't be off his game a little, dealing with something like this?

He took a moment to try and compose himself, then slid into the car, jammed the keys into the ignition, and cranked the air conditioning full-blast, welcoming the cold air on his perspiring skin.

After buckling his seat belt and slipping on a pair of shades, he couldn't help but glance over at Lilly, this beautiful, enigmatic creature who'd sat right here next to him so many times before. Couldn't help wishing away the past four months and pretending, just for a moment, that she'd never walked away, and that nothing had changed. She was looking at him, too; eyes crinkled at the corners as she squinted in the bright sunshine, cheeks slightly flushed from the summer heat.

"You, uh…you look good," he managed.

Well, that was a damn lie. She looked beautiful. Her flaxen hair, ruffling slightly in the blast of air from the vents, was streaked with strands of an even lighter blonde, which he hadn't thought was possible. Her long-lashed, deep blue eyes still reminded him of the ocean; calm on the surface, but churning underneath. Today, they sparkled, although not like they had fifteen minutes ago when he'd seen her for the first time. Some of the sparkles were hidden now, behind some sort of translucent shield.

He had only himself to blame for that.

Her skin was still the color of alabaster thanks to the SPF five million he knew she slathered on every morning, but the bridge of her nose was sprinkled with a handful of faint, honey-colored freckles, freckles that spoke of youth and life and…

No. _No. _He couldn't think about her freckles.

"Thanks," she said. He glanced over to see her grinning at him. "So do you."

Oh, she did _not_ mean that the way he wanted her to mean that. _Used_ to want her to mean that, dammit. She was just complimenting him on the fact that he still had the right number of appendages and hadn't let himself go to the dogs or let his cousin Sofia, the one who'd just started hairdresser school, practice her undeveloped art on him.

Her smile was so bright it hurt, and he had to turn away. Thank God he was driving. With a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, he backed the car out of the space and jammed it into gear. He was an aggressive driver even on the best of days. Today was not the best of days.

Lilly didn't seem fazed. "So how have you been?"

The pistons sang as he sped down the street. "All good. You?"

"Just fine."

Well. He could've predicted that.

The heavy traffic on I-95 provided a welcome distraction. Scotty weaved between cars as he always did, the adrenaline rush helping to block out some of the other, unwelcome things he was feeling. He was almost startled when Lilly spoke again.

"Thought for sure they'd have retired this thing by now." She patted the dashboard. "It was on its last legs when I left."

Scotty issued a short bark of laughter. "Ain't exactly got the dough for fancy black Fed-mobiles around here, if that's what you're gettin' at."

"It wasn't." She sounded annoyed, and he felt bad. This wasn't the kind of welcome she was expecting from him, he was sure. He just needed a few more minutes to get his head on straight, to let the feelings waft away like the vapors he was certain they were, and then they could go back to normal.

"Mind if I, uh…turn on the radio?" He didn't wait for a reply before shooting his right hand out and pressing the button on the stereo. He thought he heard a quiet sigh of relief from the passenger seat, but he supposed that could've just been his imagination.

Vera and Jeffries had been the last ones with the car, so Scotty fully expected his ears to be filled with Jerry and Mike or Tommy and Ned or whichever pair of talking heads was manning the call-in show on the sports talk station. Either that or the classic rock station they could both tolerate. But what he didn't expect to hear was the twang of a steel guitar and some good ol' boy warbling about how his woman done gone and left him with nothin' but a case of beer and a beat-up truck.

Perfect.

Changing lanes, he glanced to the right and caught Lilly looking back at him, a grin teasing her lips. "Country, huh?"

He switched the radio off. "Will…musta picked the station this mornin'."

"And here I was thinkin' Nashville finally made a convert outta you." Her eyes were starting to sparkle again. "Remember that trip?"

Yes, he remembered. Remembered emerging from his hotel room in a haze of scotch and sex and being disarmed by how utterly delectable Lilly looked, all sweetness and smiles in her soft cotton pajamas and that fuzzy sky-blue cardigan. Remembered shuffling through the sawdust with Charlene two nights later, wishing it wasn't Charlene he was doing the shuffling with, but having realized that the Charlenes were all he'd have in life, because the Lillys were forever out of his reach.

"Yeah." His voice knifed through his memories. "I remember."

Lilly stiffened next to him, lifted her chin, and turned to look out her window. He was bracing himself for the questions he knew had to be brewing inside her, for the tongue-lashing he knew he deserved, when the towering heights of P3 Global loomed large in front of him.

With a sigh of relief, he brought the car to a lurching, curbside halt and practically leapt from the driver's seat, taking deep breaths of the sultry, smoggy air and ordering himself to get it together. A crucial interview was waiting, and he'd be damned if he let Lilly rattle him on the job.

After all, he'd been doing fine. Great, even. Her name was no longer on his lips when he woke up in the morning. She wasn't haunting his dreams. He was finally starting to feel like himself again. But now, now that she was back, pressing those gentle curves against him, filling his senses with flowers and sunshine, gracefully slipping out of the car and brushing past him as he held the door for her, how could he _not _think about her?

So this shock, he was sure, was just a blip on his radar. She'd be here for a few days, they'd do this job together, and then she'd go back to DC and out of his life, and everything would go back to normal.

Besides, this very morning, in this very building, he'd met Ryan Howard. _Ryan Freaking Howard._ Got his autograph and everything.

Today had been a great day. And he wasn't about to let Lilly Rush ruin it.


	4. Not As We

**A/N: **For my American readers, in case you weren't aware, ION has started airing Cold Case reruns again! Wednesday and Friday nights seem to be when they're on. It's so good to see them again; I'd been jonesing for a fix.

**Disclaimer: **Look, these characters are just sitting around in the CBS vault gathering dust. You'd think Jerry Bruckheimer, et al, would put them on Craigslist or something. Until then, I don't own them.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**Not As We**

The tension from the car clinging like cobwebs, Lilly and Scotty strode into the vast lobby of P3 Global and stepped into the elevator amid a thick, awkward silence. Lilly watched her former partner press the button for the twelfth floor with a decisive finger, then reach into his jacket, pull out the slender black notebook he always brought with him on interviews, and start poring over the notes he'd scrawled on the lined paper within.

She wasn't kidding when she'd said he looked good. As always, summer had been kind to him, darkening his already-bronze skin and kissing his coal-black hair with deep brown highlights. The hollows beneath his cheekbones were slightly more pronounced; had he lost a few pounds? He hadn't needed to. His shoulders seemed broader, his sleeves a little tighter around his upper arms; had he been working out more?

He glanced her way, and she offered a tentative smile. Responding with the same cool, reflexive twitch of the lips he might give to a stranger, Scotty then turned back to his notes, studying them with such ferocious intensity that the casual observer might think they contained the formula for turning Diet Coke into plutonium.

Stifling the urge to roll her eyes at a degree of petulance that almost rivaled that of her cats, Lilly opened the black leather notebook she was carrying and focused her attention on the case, the litany of unanswered questions about Shane Lucas' untimely demise settling like fresh snowfall over her troubled heart. By the time the elevator dinged, she'd dismissed Scotty almost entirely from her mind and swept past him without a second thought.

A perky-looking blonde with a high ponytail and bright pink lipstick occupied the receptionist's desk. Her smile was plastic. The name plate on her desk read 'Brittany.'

"Can I help you?"

"We're here for Dr. Andi Patronelli," Lilly replied.

"Do you have an appointment?" Brittany's large, artificially blue eyes were locked on her computer; she clicked away at it with fingernails tipped an even brighter pink than her lips. "If not, I'll be happy to schedule one for you, but she's very busy. It'll be at least six weeks before I can get you in."

Scotty's expression was growing more annoyed by the second. "Well, lucky for us, we do have an appointment." He tapped his badge on the desk. "For, oh…right now."

The shiny shield instantly pierced Brittany's bubble. Nervous hands fluttered around the desk and knocked over a pencil cup. "Dr. Patronelli's in a staff meeting right now; I—I can go get her for you."

"That'd be great." Lilly flashed a reassuring smile.

Brittany ushered them into a glassed-in office filled with designer furniture and ornate rugs. "Dr. Patronelli will be right with you."

Nodding her thanks, Lilly suppressed a chuckle as the discomfited Brittany bustled off to find her boss. While she waited, she looked through the clear walls at the maze of breezeways below, connecting a vast network of other crystalline cubes. For a place with so many secrets, P3 sure had a lot of glass.

After a minute or two, the door creaked open, and Lilly turned to see a diminutive brunette step inside. "Dr. Patronelli?"

With a warm smile, the therapist shut the door. "Please, call me Andi. We're one big family around here."

"Detectives Rush and Valens, Homicide." Lilly flashed her badge, then glanced over at Scotty to find him looking back at her with a curious expression, one that made her suddenly self-conscious. Was her hair doing something ridiculous? Did she have lipstick on her teeth?

His eyes held hers for a moment before turning back to the shrink. "She means Special Agent Rush, FBI. I'm...still Detective Valens."

Oh, _God. _Heat creeping into her cheeks, she threw her partner—_former_ partner, dammit—a sheepish smile and a grateful glance. In the presence of her misstep, she expected to see that cocky smirk she'd come to know and love, but Scotty just cleared his throat and turned his attention on the plush Oriental rug beneath his feet.

"Ohhhh-kay." Andi's eyes bounced from Lilly to Scotty and back again. "Am I missing something?"

"New job," Lilly hastened to explain. "Still getting used to it."

Andi grinned. "I know the feeling, Agent." She motioned for them to sit down on an expensive-looking lavender couch. "Private practice for years, working out of my home office, and then all of a sudden, I'm here, with an assistant and a Day Timer and _meetings_. Jelly bean?" She held out a glass bowl.

"No, thanks," Scotty replied. Lilly shook her head.

The bowl thunked its consent as Andi placed it back on the coffee table. "So how can I help you two?"

"We're here about Shane Lucas," Lilly said.

"Shane?" Paling slightly, Andi dropped into a chair opposite them.

This was the part of the job Lilly hated the most. No matter how much evidence they had to the contrary, most people usually clung to a shred of hope, a shred she and Scotty would now have to yank from Andi's clenched fist and fling into the wind.

"His body turned up yesterday mornin' in the basement of the Berkshire Hotel." Scotty leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. "Cause of death was a broken neck. I'm sorry."

"_Dammit._" Andi's eyes fluttered shut, the olive skin beneath them growing wet with tears. "I always…kinda knew this day would come, I just didn't think it'd be…_today_, y'know?"

"Hurts like hell, losin' someone." The huskiness in Scotty's voice testified to his own losses, and the way he'd channeled his pain into a unique compassion for the loved ones of the victims. Lilly's heart twinged. Oh, how she'd missed him.

She gave Andi a moment with her emotions, then gently started the typical line of questions. "Can you tell us the nature of your relationship with Shane?"

"He started out as a patient." Andi smiled through her tears, then brushed them away with an immaculately-manicured ring finger. "I know, I know, it's against all kinds of rules. But I swear it was by the book."

"How so?" Lilly asked.

"He came to me for help kicking a twenty-year smoking habit."

Scotty glanced up. "And therapy…helps with that how, exactly?"

"I'm a board-certified hypnotherapist." Andi crossed one ankle over the other, pride sparking in her still-watery hazel eyes. "Shane was cured in just two sessions."

Lilly smiled. "I take it all your contact after that was…"

"Strictly personal." A wistful smile softened Andi's features. "We were serious for a little over a year."

"How'd it end?" Scotty asked.

Andi gave a slight chuckle. "My best friend got pregnant."

"And Shane was the father?" Scotty frowned, pen poised over his notepad.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, nothing like that." Andi paused, her laughing eyes turning serious. "But he was there when Jeannine came over with her first ultrasound picture. I saw the look on his face. I knew what he wanted. And I…I'd already been through that. My ex and I were married for seventeen years; our kids are sixteen and fourteen now." She broke off with a sigh and a slow shake of her head. "So as much as I adored Shane, the idea of going through that all over again, going back to square one…sometimes it's just too late, y'know?"

Lilly nodded. "Yeah."

"Shane insisted he didn't care." Andi leaned back in her chair, still swimming lazy laps in the deep pool of her memories. "He swore all he needed to be happy was to be with me, but I knew someday he'd grow to resent me. I…didn't want to be the reason he missed out on his dreams."

Her heart filled with sympathy, Lilly hazarded a glance at Scotty, only to find him looking back at her. From the swirling emotions in his coffee-colored eyes, she managed to pluck a hint of wistfulness, but he jerked his gaze back to his notes before she could identify anything else.

He cleared his throat. "How long was that before he disappeared?"

"About six months," Andi replied. "Last I heard, he was seeing a writer from…Sports Illustrated, I think. Janelle…something."

"Can you think of anyone who might've wanted to hurt Shane? Any enemies?" Scotty asked. Once again, Lilly looked his way, and his expression told her he was thinking the same thing. They weren't going to let Andi know about Shane's activities with the Feds. Not yet. Give her time to grieve, go back in later. Nichols insisted on planning out pretty much all their moves before each interview, but she and Scotty had never had more than a basic framework for the questions they'd ask. They'd never needed to.

Andi shook her head, her eyes slowly filling once more. "No. No…everyone loved him. The only one I ever even heard him arguing with was Parker."

Lilly blinked. "Parker?"

"Parker Ericksen. Connor's head of security. We've been friends for a long time; he helped me get the job here."

"Any idea what the argument was about?" Lilly asked.

"Oh, it was silly." Andi waved a dismissive hand. "It was right after Shane and I broke up, and I was sad, and…Parker jumped to conclusions. I overheard him telling Shane he was a fool to let me get away. I was mortified. I pulled him in here, set him straight, told him it was mutual, and he needed to drop it."

Scotty arched a brow. "Did he?"

"Yeah. He and Shane patched things up, got along fine after that."

There was a knock at the door, and Brittany poked her head in and flitted apologetic eyes around the office. "Dr. P, I don't mean to interrupt, but your three o'clock is here."

"Thank you, Britt." Andi smiled at her assistant, who looked all too relieved to escape the office, then turned her attention back to Lilly and Scotty. "Was there anything else?"

"Not at the moment." Scotty clicked his pen, closed his notebook, and stood up. "Thanks for your time, Doc."

Rising from the couch, Lilly extended a business card to Andi, still feeling a small jolt of pride at the FBI insignia at the top. "Here's my card. Let me know if you remember anything else that might help. Even something you don't think is important."

"Thanks, Agent Rush." Andi stashed the card in her Rolodex, then flitted elegant fingers to a clear plastic holder on the front of her desk. "And let me give you one of mine."

Lilly glanced up in surprise.

"Y'know, in case the two of you ever wanna talk about _your _relationship." Andi's dimples deepened, her eyes twinkling with conspiratorial mischief.

Heat blasting Lilly's cheeks, she exchanged an involuntary glance with Scotty. He'd always laughed off people's assumptions before, but the dark look in his eyes and the steady twitch of the muscle in his jaw told her there wouldn't be any laughing this time around. Apparently, now that their interview with Andi was over, so, too, was their brief do-si-do with the way things had once been between them.

"Thanks." Lilly took the card from Andi's outstretched fingers with an audible snap and stuffed it in her pocket, then stepped out of the office as quickly as she dared.

"We'll be in touch," she heard Scotty say behind her.

Lilly swept past Brittany's desk and jabbed the elevator button, sighing and steeling herself for another awkward car trip.

Maybe it was true what they said.

Maybe you couldn't go home again.

* * *

It was the look that did it.

Not the shock of her arrival. Not the sweet torture of her enthusiastic embrace, not the memories driving her to the interview stirred up. Not even her goddamn freckles.

It was that look she tossed him, that _thanks-for-bailing-me-out-Scotty _look when she introduced herself as Detective Rush and he gently corrected her. That flash of embarrassed gratitude, coupled with the brief sparkle in her eyes and the slight flush of her cheeks…that raised the possibility—the alarming, terrifying possibility—that he wasn't just caught off-guard by her sudden reappearance. The possibility that four months of supposed progress, four months in which he thought he'd scrubbed his heart clean of all things Lilly Rush, could be blasted to smithereens in a single afternoon.

Upon their return to Headquarters, he'd made a beeline for the office, grabbed the small gym bag out of the bottom drawer of his desk, told Boss he needed an hour, and stormed down to the basement, where, several months back, he'd stashed a heavy bag in a corner of a seldom used storage room. He quickly shed his work clothes, pulled on boxing gloves and a pair of gym shorts, and began to pound out his frustrations in a rapid rhythm on the black canvas bag.

He was deep in the zone, his blood pumping, the sweat pouring, when he sensed more than saw his partner standing in the doorway. He refused to make eye contact. Maybe if he ignored Kat, she'd get the hint and go back upstairs.

Of course, no such luck. She just stood there, unmoved. It seemed meeting one of his sports heroes—had that handshake with Ryan Howard really been just this morning?—had depleted his entire karmic allowance of good luck for the foreseeable future.

"Your hour's almost up," she said.

"How'd you know I was down here?" _Jab. Hook. Uppercut._

"You're my partner. Stalkin' you is part of the job description. Plus, y'know…" Kat's voice was suddenly softer, barely audible over his punches. "You came down here a lot when she left."

He responded with a barrage of right jabs.

"Somethin' I need to know?" Kat asked.

"No." More grunt than word, it was accompanied by a vicious left hook.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shift her weight and fold her arms across her chest in that _don't-fuck-with-me_ posture he'd come to know so well. "So was there ever anything between you and Lil? Or did you just want there to be?"

"Back off, Miller." The chains of the bag clanked their protest, the violent impact of his right cross radiating up his shoulder and halfway down his back. "Ain't your business."

"Okay. So you're fine with Lil bein' back."

"Just fine."

"Yeah. You look fine."

He gave the bag another ferocious sucker-punch, one that finally forced him to break his momentum and acknowledge his burning lungs, quivering muscles, and the pain in his still-shattered heart that dwarfed the other discomforts. He stood there for a moment, just gulping air and blinking sweat out of his eyes, then looked up at his partner.

"Y'know what? Yeah. You're right. I wanted more with Lil."

The look in Kat's dark eyes was a directive to keep going, to come out with the whole truth.

He swallowed hard. "I was…in love with her."

Kat arched a skeptical brow. "Was?"

Scotty didn't have the strength to argue.

Kat rummaged in his gym bag for a moment, plucked a towel from its depths, and tossed it to him. "You ever tell her?"

He snatched the towel from midair and blotted his face. What the hell. Maybe if Miller knew the humiliating truth, she'd leave it, and him, alone.

"No." He eyed his partner over the edge of the towel, waiting for her to launch into the rant he was sure would follow, no doubt peppered with highly colorful variations on the "chicken" theme, but she just looked at him, a slight frown creasing her brow.

"Why not?"

Scotty sighed and slung the towel over his shoulder. "It's…complicated, all right?"

"Doesn't seem complicated to me." Kat eyed him skeptically. "Sounds like what you're really sayin' is you're way more pissed off with yourself than with her."

Well, yes. He was. But if he didn't cloak his pain in anger and jackassery, there was a more-than-decent chance Lilly might see the truth. She wasn't a federal agent for nothing.

"Finish up, Scotty." Miller's voice, though no-nonsense as usual, contained a note of something that sounded suspiciously like understanding. "The sooner we catch our doer, the sooner Lil goes back to Washington and you can get on with your life."

The door clicked shut behind her, and Scotty stood there, kneading the towel in his fists and fighting the frustration that threatened. Getting on with his life was what he thought he'd spent the last few months doing. It was what he wanted, what he ached for…almost as much as he ached for Lilly.

He stood there for a moment, breathing deep and considering his options, then tossed the towel to the side and started pummeling the bag all over again.


	5. I Never Told You

**Disclaimer: **This is where I'd usually say something clever illustrating the point that these characters do not, never have, and probably never will belong to me, but I'm fresh out of clever. The family at the end of the first paragraph, though? They do, quite literally, belong to me. :)

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**I Never Told You **

_But I never told you what I should have said__  
__No, I never told you, I just held it in__  
__And now I miss everything about you_

Lilly slowed to a stop at the curb and parked the Suburban just outside her father and stepmother's trim home in Haddonfield. The early evening sun shining warm on her left side, she pulled the keys from the ignition and held them in her lap, running a fingertip over their intricate grooves and slightly-sharp edges. A quartet of school-aged boys whizzed past on shiny, new-looking bicycles. An older couple took a miniature schnauzer for a walk, though the dog had such energy it appeared to be walking them. Down the block, a grinning father played on the driveway with his two exuberant, giggling young sons while his toddler daughter practiced walking in the grass. The tenacious little girl took a few wobbly steps, sat down hard, then popped right back up to try a few more, the proud grin on her round face bringing a smile to Lilly's own.

Upon their return from the interview with Andi Patronelli, Scotty had vanished from the squad room as quickly as if he'd been beamed. Nichols and Vera had returned a few minutes later, at which time she and her new partner went to check into their hotel. Lilly would've loved to grab a drink with Kat afterward, but Veronica's Wednesday night ballet class was still a standing commitment. Vera, Jeffries, even Boss had had other plans, and Nichols had disappeared into his hotel room with a cheese steak from Geno's and plans to FaceTime his kids.

With the car and her evening unexpectedly free, Lilly slipped out of the hotel and drove aimlessly through the streets of the city she'd always called home, observing what small changes had occurred since May. It looked like her favorite Thai place had gone under in her absence, but the coffee wagon she'd frequented on her way to the train still seemed to be doing brisk business. She drove past her old townhouse, too, knowing before she even saw it that the For Rent sign out front would still be there. She'd been trying to sublease the place ever since her move, but the only occupants had lasted a mere month and a half before buying a house in Germantown.

Before she knew it, Lilly found herself on the Ben Franklin Bridge, bound for New Jersey, and now here she sat in this little oasis of suburban perfection, uncertain how to proceed. She pulled her phone from her purse and started to dial, but stopped halfway through, not sure how to let her…well, her family, though it still felt strange to think of the Coopers as such, know she'd blown into town.

Oh, to hell with it. Tossing her phone back into her purse, Lilly jumped out of the car, strode up the walk, and rang the Coopers' doorbell. A brief frisson of terror shot through her at the sound of soft footfalls inside, but the door was creaking open before she could do anything about it.

"Lilly!" Celeste Cooper's pleasantly surprised face appeared through the storm door. A split second later, the door flew open and Lilly found herself engulfed in an affectionate embrace.

"Sorry I just…popped in like this without calling first." Lilly's voice was muffled by her stepmother's thick, dark blonde hair. "I didn't know I'd be in town until this morning."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Lilly, how many times do I have to remind you that you're family?" Celeste stepped back and held the door open. "You don't have to call. Just show up."

Grinning her thanks, Lilly stepped inside, her vision taking a moment to adjust from the brilliant sunshine outdoors.

"I hope you're hungry. Dinner's my famous lemon chicken." Celeste's hazel eyes twinkled as she took Lilly's things and hung them on a nearby coat rack.

Lilly blinked, startled. She was so used to the odd hours of her job that she forgot she'd be dropping in, unannounced, right around the time normal people sat down to eat dinner. She was about to demur when the delectable aroma from the kitchen reminded her stomach just how long it had been since that morning's lone donut.

"I don't want to impose," she said, but her stepmother shushed her with a warm, affectionate smile.

"It's no trouble at all; we're gonna have leftovers out our ears anyway. With Finn and his friends popping in and out, I learned to cook for a small army, and I can't get outta the habit since he left for the Academy."

With a flush of pride, Lilly recalled the enthusiastic text she'd received from her half brother two months back. His father—_their_ father—had finally relented and allowed Finn to turn down his acceptance to Cornell and instead apply for a job with the local police force.

"How's he doin'?" Lilly asked.

"They keep him pretty busy," Celeste replied, "but he_ loves_ it. Says he thinks it's what he was born to do."

Lilly smiled. "Must be in our blood."

"Must be." Celeste escorted Lilly into the living room and turned her attention to the chubby, adorable baby sitting up on a fluffy quilt, playing happily with an assortment of brightly-colored toys. "Look who's here, Miss Samantha! It's your Aunt Lilly!"

Lilly was floored at how much her infant niece had changed in the last four months. "Oh, wow, she's _huge._"

"She's this close to crawling." A beaming Celeste held her fingers an inch apart. "Then we'll really be in for it."

Samantha looked up at Lilly for a moment, then flashed her a wide, dimpled grin. "_Daaa_-gah."

"Well, hi there." Lilly hesitated for a moment, then crouched down next to her niece. Spying a soft, brightly-colored ball nearby, she picked it up and rolled it experimentally toward Samantha. The ball jingled its way across the quilt and rolled to a stop near Samantha's right foot. The baby girl squealed in delight and immediately shoved the ball back toward her aunt, who burst out in surprised laughter.

"Oh, she's got you now." Celeste's hazel eyes sparkled. "You roll that ball even once, you better clear your schedule for a while. Samantha loves that game."

"Chris used to love it, too." Lilly rolled the ball back to her niece, her heart flooding with nostalgia. But for the nose, Samantha was a spitting image of Christina.

Her white-blonde curls bobbing, the baby squealed even louder and pushed the ball back with more enthusiasm. Lilly smiled and rolled it back. For a moment, she was seven years old again, playing on the floor of that dingy rat hole of an apartment. Seeing her mother passed out on the couch, an empty vodka bottle just beyond her fingertips. Rolling a ball to Christina while mentally scanning the meager contents of the kitchen and trying to quiet her complaining stomach with the promise of stale Cheerios for dinner and maybe some bologna, too, if she was lucky and there was any left in the fridge. Envying her dimpled, delighted sister, still enraptured with rolling a ball, far too young to realize how crappy her life was going to turn out to be.

Samantha screeched again in unabashed ecstasy, bringing another bubble of laughter to Lilly's lips. "Looks like she's doing well."

"Oh, she's great. We just love her to pieces." Celeste grabbed a cloth reached forward to dab a bit of drool off Samantha's chin. "And, uh…Chris is doing well, too."

Lilly's stomach formed a reflexive knot at the mention of her sister. "Yeah?"

"You got my e-mail about her gettin' out of rehab, right?" Celeste glanced at Lilly over her shoulder.

Lilly nodded.

"Well, Finn moved out, and Chris and Samantha moved in. Yes you _did_!" Celeste ruffled the baby's curls. "She's taking it slow, got a job waiting tables at Chili's—it's where she is now, actually, you just missed her."

Lilly was awash in relief. After all her day had held, she wasn't so sure she'd have come to visit had she known she'd be seeing Christina.

"She's looking to find something full-time, eventually get her own place, but close by so we can still watch Samantha." Celeste pressed a noisy kiss to the top of the baby's head, then picked her up and gave her a squeeze. "Oh, I've _missed_ having babies around. I thought I'd have to wait until Maggie got married to be a grandma!"

With a grin, Lilly reached out to tickle Samantha's tiny, jelly-bean toes.

"But you'd be proud of your sister, Lilly." Celeste fixed her with an earnest gaze. "She's really cleaned herself up."

"That's…that's great." Lilly had lived through too many of her mother's well-meaning, but ultimately ill-fated, attempts at sobriety to feel much optimism. Even having two little girls to care for hadn't convinced her to kick the habit…but maybe Chris and Samantha could succeed where Ellen Rush had failed.

"And you'd be proud of your dad, too," Celeste continued softly. "He's been with her every step of the way."

Lilly allowed herself a smile and a slightly brighter outlook. Chris had found the support that their mother never had. Maybe…maybe she had a chance after all.

The front door creaked open, and a moment later, Paul Cooper appeared in the living room, his blue eyes taking on a mischievous twinkle.

"Oh, good. It's just you." The lines around his smile deepened. "That big black SUV out front had me worried for a second."

Lilly grinned and rose to her feet. "Hi, Dad."

"Good to see you, Lilly." He crossed the room and wrapped Lilly in a brief, slightly awkward embrace. "How's life in the Bureau?"

"Busy," she replied honestly.

"Hi, hon." Paul bent down and feathered a kiss to his wife's cheek.

"They keep you hoppin', huh?" Grinning up at her husband, Celeste put Samantha back down on the quilt and rolled the ball to her, much to the baby's delight.

Lilly answered with a wry grin. "I don't think I've seen the inside of my apartment for more than three days in a row since I took this job."

"Interesting cases?" Paul settled into a recliner facing the fireplace and motioned for Lilly to join him in its identical twin.

"Yeah." Lilly smiled and sat down next to her father. "We've been lookin' into some old murders down south. Civil Rights era cases, mostly. The Bureau wants to close as many of them as it can."

"Noble," Celeste murmured. "Lots of families waiting a long time for answers."

"And you're giving them those answers." Eyes shining, Paul reached over and patted Lilly's shoulder. "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks." She felt the sting of unbidden tears. "Y'know, for…givin' me the chance."

Paul nodded. "Well, like I said before, your sister isn't your responsibility."

Lilly smiled slightly, remembering that conversation over a late April chess game in the park where she expressed her reservations about leaving town with her sister and her niece in such precarious straits.

Her father cleared his throat. "It's...it's been a privilege, if you want the truth. Helping Christina…get clean. Makes me feel like it wasn't all a waste. That I can use what I went through to help her." Placing a hand on her knee, he caught her gaze and held it fast. "And you, too, Lilly."

Lilly clasped her father's weathered hand. "Well…like I said…thanks."

* * *

As soon as they returned to the office from a largely unproductive interview with Parker Ericksen, the laconic head of security for P3, Kat flew out of the office for Veronica's dance class, leaving Scotty staring down at the pile of paperwork resulting from their long, eventful day. Normally, he'd have balked at the idea of spending another hour or two in the office, struggling to stay awake through the mindless drudgery of writing up interview reports, but tonight, paperwork seemed like a welcome distraction. Even now, though the squad room was deserted and the city lights twinkled in the dusk, Lilly's lingering presence was so strong it made his stomach churn and his every nerve ending stand at attention. He had to give the room a quick once-over to make sure she wasn't actually there.

Yes, paperwork was a brilliant idea. So, his arms still a bit rubbery from his earlier bout with the punching bag, Scotty popped the tab on a can of Coke from the fridge, settled down at his desk, uncapped his favorite pen, and started scrawling through the first interview report.

He'd been sitting right here, at this very desk, on that beautiful sun-soaked morning all those years ago. A Tuesday, if he recalled correctly. Springtime, when the whole world was bursting with color and vibrant with new life. The previous autumn, he'd finally let go of Elisa, floating her goodbye note down the Schuylkill. Over the long winter that followed, the lancing pain of her death had faded to a dull ache. Now, like the newly budded trees, he'd finally dared to poke his head out of the frozen cocoon of grief and, finding warmth and sunshine, had cautiously rejoined the rest of the world.

They'd just started a working new job; digging through the boxes, looking through the original case documents and trying to figure out where to start. He remembered glancing over at Lilly to find her reading a yellowed newspaper and absently nibbling on the end of her pen. As always when reopening a case, her demeanor was one of eager determination. She was in here element here, surrounded by musty boxes and faded documents.

The sunlight streaming into the office made her hair shine like the purest gold. Her alabaster skin seemed lit from within, the morning light perfectly highlighting her delicate bone structure and fragile beauty, so at odds with the toughness he knew lay beneath. She looked ethereal, angelic, almost, and Scotty stared helplessly. He had never, ever seen her more beautiful.

Her eyes flitted up and met his for a moment, the bright flash of sapphire blue startling against her pale hair and even paler skin. She responded to his attentive gaze with a small smile. Just a quick curving of the lips, nothing like the thousand-watt smile he knew she was capable of, but it disarmed him all the same.

And then he noticed, in the sunshine, a handful of leftover freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. Faint, barely-perceptible kisses of caramel on otherwise creamy skin, all but invisible under her makeup…but they were there. A silent testament to the beautiful little girl he knew she must have been; a glimpse of the real Lilly somehow managing to break through the walls she'd spent her whole life putting up.

The Ice Queen had freckles, and that, for whatever reason, proved to be his undoing. His whole body flooded with heat. His heart, suddenly full to the point of pain, thumped double-time. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

He wanted to smack himself. What the hell was he _doing_, thinking about his partner this way? It had only been a few weeks since the Ana Castilla job, when his pathological inability to observe boundaries had come back to bite him in the ass, hard. Later, with Vera as his witness, he'd vowed to make some changes.

Falling in love with his partner was definitely not the sort of change he had in mind.

He supposed that was why he fought it tooth and nail. Why he never told Lilly how he felt. She was shot, half-dead in his arms, and he didn't tell her. Run off the road and nearly drowned, and he was still silent.

Turned in her badge and left for DC, and he didn't say a word.

The closest he came to spilling his guts was her last night in Philly. Ever the gentleman, he'd helped her pack up her desk, the two of them making stilted, inane conversation and laughing about all the random crap Lilly had accumulated over the years, both trying like hell to avoid thinking about what they were actually doing. What they were about to do.

When the box was finally packed, her composure had crumbled, and his was damn close. He'd let his tear-filled eyes wander for a brief moment to her lips, fighting the impulse to take her in his arms, press her up against the wall, and kiss her until neither of them could draw breath. He wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to.

But he didn't.

Because she didn't feel the same.

It didn't take a detective to figure that out. He'd seen her with Joseph Shaw. With Saccardo. Hell, even with that Cavanaugh bastard who recruited her for the FBI in the first place. The slight flush of the cheeks, the little sparkle in the eyes, the dazzling smile.

She'd never been that way around him. Not once.

Besides, she was leaving. She'd put in her papers. Laid her badge on Boss's desk. And if he truly loved her, he supposed that, more than anything, he should wish for her happiness. She hadn't been happy here in Philadelphia. Not since the shooting, anyway.

Maybe she could be happy in Washington.

He hoped so.

So instead of kissing her senseless, a move which would've been selfish at best and utterly disastrous at worst, Scotty stayed silent one final time.

"Hey," he'd called as she turned toward the door, the box of her belongings in her arms.

With a quiet sniffle, she looked back, the tears gluing her lashes together and making her eyes almost unnaturally blue."Yeah?"

"I, uh…I just…wanted to say…" The words rushed up from his heart to hammer tiny fists against the door of his mouth, begging to be let out. He battled them there for a moment, his lips trembling with effort and emotion.

_I love you, Lil. I love you so much I can't think straight, and the idea of bein' here, doin' this job without you…I can't even imagine it. I got no idea how I'm gonna do it. _

_I know it's too late, I know you've already made your mind up, and I know you don't feel about me the way I feel about you, but…please stay. Please. Just for one minute, stay, and let me show you how what you mean to me. How much I love you. How great we are together._

_How great we could be._

"Say…what?" The box rattled and clunked as she shifted her weight.

With a hefty swallow, he forced those writhing, desperate, but ultimately pointless words back down to the depths, wincing as they squeezed past the softball-sized lump in his throat.

"Good luck."

A quiet sniffle, a heartrendingly beautiful smile. "Thanks, Scotty."

And then she was gone, her fading footsteps ripping his heart from his body. Gutted and reeling, he'd taken the evidence box, her last box, to the storage room downstairs, and the act of stashing it high on a shelf, of seeing "CLOSED" on the edge of the lid in her handwriting, finally tore away the last thread of his control. He didn't know for sure how long he stayed down there, weeping helplessly for all he had lost.

With his gaze locked on her empty desk, Scotty was chagrined to feel the burn of tears all over again. He took a moment to will them away, then slammed his pen to the desk. Screw the paperwork. This was a terrible idea. He had to get out of here.

His chair scraped against the floor as he shoved it back and dove for the gym bag, but the overused muscles across his upper back quivered in protest at the thought of another battle with the punching bag. What the hell good would that do, anyway? He'd spent two furious, sweat-drenched hours down there already, and it hadn't made a damn bit of difference. Not today.

Apparently, not for the last four months, either.

Dropping the gym bag back into the drawer and gaining a small amount of satisfaction from slamming it shut so hard it bounced back a couple inches, he shoved the paperwork into a folder and tossed it to the side of his desk. He'd deal with that in the morning.

As for tonight? He was off to get good and drunk.


	6. Meet Me Halfway

**Disclaimer: **Still don't own 'em.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**Meet Me Halfway**

The early-morning sun was already blazing, promising another scorcher, when Lilly and Nichols arrived in the office for their first full day of work in Philadelphia. After a pleasant evening with the Coopers, followed by one of the best nights of sleep she'd ever gotten on a hotel bed, Lilly felt refreshed and ready to tackle her mission anew.

"Got any coffee around here?" Nichols scanned the squad room. "Hotel brew didn't quite kick in yet."

"In here." Lilly led her partner into the kitchen. "I'll warn you, it's pretty bad."

Nichols shrugged. "Coffee's coffee, right?"

"Wouldn't bet on that," With a grin, Lilly retrieved a pair of PPD mugs from the cabinet, feeling a pang at the stark white insignia and familiar heft of the smooth, dark blue ceramic as she set them on the counter and started to fill them.

"What the-?"

Lilly turned to see her partner looking in astonishment at the white cardboard box that had, until recently, housed the usual dozen donuts.

She looked back at him, equally astonished. "You're still hungry?" The breakfast spread at the hotel had been generous, and they'd both eaten more than their share.

"No. I might not need to eat again until tomorrow." A grin tugging at the corners of his lips, he lifted the lid and looked underneath with mock exaggeration. "I just can't believe these people managed to demolish an entire dozen donuts before eight in the morning."

"Musta been some of those guys," Walking into the kitchen, Vera shrugged and jerked his head toward the handful of other Homicide detectives milling around the office.

"Uh-huh." Lilly reached forward and brushed a few flecks of sugar glaze off the lapels of her colleague's coat.

"Oh, don't worry," he said as Kat and Jeffries entered the kitchen together. "I saved one for you." Vera pulled a paper towel-wrapped pastry from the cabinet, which he presented to Lilly with a mischievous flourish.

Kat stopped, folded her arms across her chest, and stared at Vera. "So you'll save one for her, but not for me?"

Nick's eyes twinkled with mischief. "You go away for four months, and I'll think about it."

Jeffries chuckled from the depths of the fridge, while Kat poured coffee into her mug and harrumphed quietly.

Awash in warm, happy nostalgia, Lilly held the donut out to Kat. "Go ahead. I ate at the hotel."

"Hey, thanks, Lil." Kat sank her teeth into the pastry and flicked a dark glare toward Vera. "Nice to know _someone's _got my back."

Ignoring the shot Miller had taken at him, Vera grabbed the carafe and poured himself a refill. "First Thursdays tonight; everyone in?"

Jeffries closed the fridge and unscrewed the lid on the bottle of creamer. "Wouldn't miss it."

"Course," Kat mumbled around her mouthful of donut.

Lilly blinked. "That's tonight?"

"First Thursday of the month, Lil," Jeffries grinned.

Nichols paused, his coffee mug halfway to his lips. "What's First Thursdays?"

"All murder cops, past and present, hangin' at Jones' for drinks and war stories." Vera leaned against the counter. "You ever work Homicide?"

"Eight years for the Dallas P. D.," came the reply.

"Respect." Vera extended a closed fist, which Nichols immediately bumped. "Then you're welcome to join us."

Nichols smiled. "It's a very kind offer, but I'm sure you all have a lot of catching up to do. Wouldn't want to intrude."

With a shrug, Vera started to head toward the squad room, everyone else following close behind. "Well, if you change your mind, we'll be there from nine until they kick us out."

"Well, thanks for the invite." Nichols smiled around at the group, took a sip of his coffee, then pulled a face. "Wow. This coffee's terrible."

Smiling, Lilly watched her partner abandon the mug on a nearby desk. "Can't say I didn't warn you."

She'd just settled into her desk—well, her old desk—when the scraping of a chair drew her attention upward.

Her stomach knotted. Scotty had just arrived.

He didn't look like he'd slept particularly well; his face was a bit dull and pale beneath his tan, and his eyes were shadowed with dark circles. Draping his jacket over the back of his chair, he scanned the room for a moment before his gaze lighted on Nichols' abandoned coffee.

"This belong to anyone?" he asked.

Nichols glanced up from the chair he'd pulled up next to Lilly's. "You. If you want it." His tone indicated he didn't believe such was possible.

Nodding his thanks, Scotty raised the mug to his lips, took a long drink, then grimaced.

"Wow, straight up." Vera studied Scotty for a moment, his lips curving in a faintly leering smile. "Late night, huh?"

"Yeah…somethin' like that." Avoiding eye contact with everyone, he took the mug and retreated to the kitchen.

Lilly's heart sank. She'd been nursing at least a small hope that Scotty might have thawed a bit since yesterday, but this seemed not to be the case. Despite all their years together, despite all they'd been through, it looked like peaceful coexistence was the best she could hope for, and even that now seemed a bit of a stretch.

Well, fine. She still kept a shield of cool detachment in her back pocket, one she'd used to wall herself off from quite a lot in this office over the years. But she'd never had to protect herself from _him. _

Lilly allowed a small sigh of self-pity, then flipped open her notes from yesterday's interview and willed her unpleasant emotions away.

After a few minutes, the lieutenant's door clanked open and Stillman strode out of his office. "Morning, everyone."

"Morning, Boss," came the chorus of assorted mumbles. Scotty emerged from the kitchen, sat down at his desk, and started chugging his coffee as though his life depended on it.

"So where are we this morning?" The boss's eyes swept over their little group.

"Scotty and I talked to Andi Patronelli yesterday," Lilly said. "Shane Lucas had definitely been seeing her."

From across the cluster of desks, Will looked up. "Professional? Or personal?"

Lilly hazarded a peek at her former partner. "Well, it started out professional…"

"Ended up personal." The cold, dark glance Scotty flicked her looked involuntary, something the flex of the muscle in his cheek told her he was trying, and failing, to fight.

Her icy mask slipped a bit, and she just stared at him for a moment. His eyes quickly left hers and glued themselves onto his coffee mug, which he resumed his efforts to drain.

"Were they still together at the time of the murder?" Stillman peered at the squad over the rims of his glasses, and Lilly gratefully jerked her attention back to the matter at hand.

"No, Andi said they'd broken up six months before his death."

Next to her, Nichols seemed interested. "Bad breakup?"

"Seemed amicable enough," Lilly replied.

Scotty leaned back in his chair and tented his fingers. "Andi said Shane wanted kids, but she's already got a couple teenagers with her ex. Didn't wanna have to do the mom thing all over again."

"Don't blame her for that," Kat piped up. "Once you leave the diapers behind, there's no goin' back."

"Amen." The corners of Nichols' eyes crinkling, he flashed Kat a knowing grin. She nodded and lifted her coffee mug in a silent toast.

"According to what we uncovered yesterday, Shane had found himself a rebound," Lilly supplied. "Sports journalist by the name of Janelle Stinson."

Vera swiveled in his seat. "Ain't she that stone-cold fox who writes for Sports Illustrated?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Lilly saw Kat kick the bottom of Vera's chair hard enough to roll it back a couple inches. "Ain't you taken?"

Taken? Vera?

Glowering at Kat, Vera returned his seat to its original position. "That don't mean I can't window-shop," he grumbled into his coffee mug, but the slight sparkle in his eyes told the truth. Nick Vera _was _taken, and apparently pretty happy about it. He glanced up, spied Lilly watching him, and tossed her a wink and a toothy grin.

Lilly responded with raised eyebrows and a curious smile. She'd definitely be interrogating him later.

"Anyone talk to Janelle the first time around?" Stillman asked.

Twirling her pencil in a dizzying loop around her fingers, Kat glanced through a stack of papers from the original case file. "Says here she had an interview with Ryan Howard...save it, boys," she snapped, with a pre-emptive glare at Vera and Scotty, "...the night Shane disappeared. Missing Persons never got much out of her."

Stillman nodded. "What else did we uncover yesterday?"

"Got a few calls back from the neighbors." Jeffries rifled through his notes. "Most of 'em didn't know any more than they did two years ago, but we did get a visit from a woman named Belinda Carter. She was in the hospital with pneumonia when the cops came around the first time; guess they never got back to her."

Vera leaned forward in his seat. "Said she was lyin' on her couch, tryin' to kick what she thought was bronchitis, and she saw a dark green Jeep Cherokee parked outside Shane's place around the time he disappeared." His eager eyes flitted around the group. "Accordin' to her it was still there when her husband finally convinced her to go to the ER."

"Got anything on this Cherokee?" Stillman asked.

"Yeah." Vera shuffled through a sheaf of documents. "Registered to a…Parker Ericksen. Head of security for P3."

"Parker Ericksen?" Nichols stopped, his shiny gold pen poised above his notebook. "You sure about that?"

Lilly glanced up at her partner. She didn't know him inside and out yet like she did Scotty, but she'd been around him enough to know that edge he got in his voice when something captured his interest.

"Right here." Vera pointed to the relevant line on the document, and Nichols' lips tightened to a thin line.

Jeffries looked up at Kat. "Ain't that the same guy you were tellin' me about on the way in?"

Kat nodded. "One of the janitors at P3 called when they found out we were sniffin' around there yesterday. Said he overheard an argument between Shane and Parker. Didn't remember specifics, but he heard somethin' from Parker about…" she glanced down at her notes. "Oh. Here it is. 'If you're not careful, you're gonna blow this whole thing up.'"

"That name came up with us, too," Lilly piped up.

"Andi said she overheard Parker givin' Shane the what-for after they broke up," Scotty added.

"All roads lead to Parker," Vera remarked.

"Sounds like we need to get him down here for another chat." Stillman rubbed a hand over the top of his head. "Scotty, why don't you and Lil have a go at him?"

"All the same to you, Boss, I'd, uh…rather work with my partner on this one." His eyes locked on his desk, he took a sip of coffee that was almost elaborate in its nonchalance.

Lilly thought she'd armed herself appropriately, but the sharp pain from Scotty's barb, pain that stole her breath for a moment, told her she hadn't built up those walls quite thick enough yet. When she looked up, she saw her own astonishment mirrored in Kat's dark eyes.

"No offense," Scotty added.

Lilly regarded him coolly for a moment. "None taken."She felt more than saw the curious interplay of glances between the other members of the squad.

"Unfortunately, Detective Valens, it's not up to you." Nichols stood up and turned toward Stillman. "Forgive me if I step on your toes, Lieutenant, but Rush and I need to take Ericksen."

Stillman's eyebrows arched over the rims of his glasses. "Oh?"

"'Fraid I can't tell you any more than that. It's classified." Nichols turned toward Scotty. "No offense."

Scotty replied with a halfhearted shrug and drained his coffee to the dregs.

"That's fine," Stillman replied. "Scotty, you and Will look through Ericksen's phone records, financials, see if anything pops. Nicky?"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"It's your lucky day. Go talk to Janelle Stinson; see what she can remember."

Vera's eyes lit up. "I'm on it like white on rice."

"Don't get too excited." There was a touch of wry amusement in Stillman's voice. "I'm sendin' Miller with you to make sure you behave."

Nick's enthusiasm seemed to wane a little in the presence of Kat's triumphant smirk. "You so much as _think _anything inappropriate," she said, "Megan hears it from me."

A smile tugged at Lilly's lips. Megan, huh? Well, that was one less question she'd have to ask Nick later.

* * *

The steam from the coffee pot bathing his face, Scotty sloshed another round of the scorched-tasting office brew into his empty mug. He didn't relish the thought of trying to stomach any more of it, but that first cup hadn't even made a dent in his groggy, fatigued state.

Although he had indeed spent some quality time with a bottle of Southern Comfort last night, a desire to avoid both the physical misery of a hangover and the barrage of questions he knew one would bring about stopped him just shy of drinking himself into total oblivion. This, however, doomed him to a fitful, agitated sleep, peppered with lust-drenched dreams of a barely-clothed Lilly, taunting him mercilessly from just beyond his reach.

Somewhere throughout the course of his long, restless night, Scotty was forced to admit defeat. He still loved her. If anything, his feelings had grown stronger since she'd left Philadelphia. Given that he couldn't even be around her without his heart constricting to the point of pain, pain that caused hot anger to surge through his veins and hurtful words to spring from his lips, he'd decided to just try and avoid her as much as possible. Couldn't be that difficult, especially since she'd come complete with her own bright shiny new Federal-ass partner, a guy who, under any other circumstance, Scotty would probably get along with quite well. But when he looked at Tom Nichols now, all he saw was a guy who didn't know how lucky he was. A guy who got to spend his days working, talking, and laughing with Lilly, a guy whose job it was to protect her, to look out for her, a guy who, if he was fortunate, would get a glimpse behind those frozen walls.

A guy who had what Scotty had let slip through his grasp.

"Everything all right?" This from Jeffries, who had somehow managed to enter the kitchen without Scotty noticing.

Having added cream and sugar to the point that the coffee might be, although far short of the 'good' mark, was at least 'palatable,' Scotty pushed the stirrer to the side with his index finger and took an experimental sip.

"Yeah." Stepping on the pedal to the garbage can, he tossed the stirrer inside, then let the lid shut with a defiant-sounding slam. "All good."

Will smiled. "Wasn't talkin' about the coffee."

_Dammit_. "Yeah. I know."

Jeffries glanced around the kitchen to make sure they were alone, then lowered his voice. "So what's going on with you and Lil?"

Scotty crumpled the empty sugar packet in an angry fist. "Y'know, I don't get why this is such a big deal. She's back to work a case. That's it. She's just doin' her job." He looked up at Will, hoping the sparks in his eyes would force his colleague to back off. "Can we move on and do ours?" _Please_, he whispered silently to the cosmos. _That's all I want. To just move the hell on._

Jeffries gave Scotty a long, penetrating look. "Best idea I've heard all morning."

* * *

From the vantage point of her desk, Lilly watched Scotty and Will stand by the refrigerator and talk, wondering, for the eightieth time since her arrival, what the hell was going on with him. He was never one to put someone in the deep freeze; that was her specialty. Yelling and throwing things was more his style, and that, she might've been able to handle. But this? She had no idea how she was going to deal with the rest of her time in Philly with this.

She supposed he'd be at First Thursdays tonight, too. For a moment, she thought about skipping out. She wasn't really part of the squad anymore, so maybe she'd just stay back at the hotel, work on the case, see if she couldn't crack the thing wide open and get them out of here a couple days early…

But a surge of anger surfaced when she entertained that possibility. She'd missed this squad, dammit. They were her friends, her _family_, and God knew when she'd see them again. Besides, if she skipped out, there'd be questions at best and hurt feelings at worst.

She set her jaw, decision made. She was going. Scotty could just suck it up. She'd be leaving in a few days anyway, and then they could all get back to normal. For tonight, she intended to bask in the warm, summery glow of days gone by, and she wasn't going to let Scotty's icy demeanor ruin it.

"Rush."

Her new partner's voice snapped her attention away from her old one. "Yeah?"

"There somewhere around here we can talk? Privately?"

Noticing that Stillman's office was, for the moment anyway, empty, she jerked her head in its direction.

Once inside the small, glassed-in space, Nichols strode around the room, closing all the blinds. Lilly turned questioning eyes on her partner. "What's goin' on, Tom?"

The last of the blinds closed with a clank, and Nichols turned to face her. "Parker Ericksen is our man on the inside with the P3 investigation. He's the only reason we've still got a case against Connor Thompson and the rest of his crew."

Tilting her head to the side, Lilly took a moment to absorb this information. "What's in it for him?"

"Immunity." Nichols leaned on the edge of Stillman's desk. "Ericksen's up to his eyeballs in wiretapping and corporate espionage charges dating back to when he worked for the Philadelphia Eagles."

"Wiretapping? In professional football?"

"You'd be surprised." Nichols flashed a wry grin. "But we need to tread lightly on this one. Push too hard, the whole thing might implode."

"But what if he's our doer?"

Nichols sighed. "We hope and pray he's not. Otherwise, we've got a real mess on our hands." Crossing the room, he re-opened the blinds, signaling an end to the classified portion of their conversation. Brilliant sunshine spilled into the office as Lilly did the same on the opposite side of the office.

"Hey, speaking of a real mess…"

"Yeah?" Lilly arched a brow.

"How long were you and Valens together?"

Lilly paused, fingertips still poised on the slender white cord. "Well, we were partners for seven years."

Nichols grinned. "That's…not what I asked."

"Oh." The implication of her partner's question sent a shiver through her body. "We, uh...we weren't."

"Mmm." Nichols's blue eyes held hers in a long, searching look. "Maybe that's the problem."


	7. Human

**Disclaimer: **Not my circus, not my monkeys, not my characters.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**Human**

_I can take so much__  
__'Til I've had enough__  
__'Cause I'm only human__  
_

"Well, of course we argued." Parker Ericksen's hands rose a few inches off the interview room table, then fell to its smooth surface with a pair of quiet thumps. "We argued all the time. Shane Lucas was sloppy."

Leaning against the wall in the far corner, her arms folded across her chest, Lilly studied every nuance of their suspect's expressions, content to let her partner take the lead with the questions while she got her bearings and reacquainted herself with the cozy confines of the interview room.

Across the table, Nichols raised his eyebrows. "Sloppy?"

"Yeah. To an almost pathological degree. It—it was like he _wanted _to get caught. Wanted to take us all down in flames with him."

"How so?"

Parker gave a short bark of laughter. "How long you got?"

"As long as we need."

"Well..." He looked for a moment as though he were mentally flitting through thousands of examples and trying to snatch out one that would make his point. Then, sudden inspiration sparking in his eyes, he removed the slender silver pen from his shirt pocket. "Okay, take this."

Nichols frowned down at it. "That your recording device?"

"Lot better than strapping a wire to your chest, I guess, but Shane might've handled that better." Parker fingered the pen for a moment before slipping it back into his pocket with a rueful smile. "I don't think it ever sank in that this wasn't just a regular pen. For a while, he'd forget to turn it on for meetings, and then he'd remember to do that, but then leave the pen in his office recording an hour and a half of dead air." He shook his head in disgust. "If you people ever got anything useful outta him, I'll eat my hat."

Lilly straightened and started to walk toward the center of the room. "That girlfriend of his have anything to do with him gettin' sloppy?"

"Janelle?" Surprise flickered across Parker's chiseled features. "No, she wasn't around much. Traveled a lot for work."

"What about Andi?" Nichols asked.

"Andi?" Parker's demeanor instantly became more guarded. Lilly glanced toward her partner; the look he gave her in return told her he'd noticed the same thing.

Lilly turned her attention back to their suspect. "She a distraction?"

"_No_." The explosiveness of Parker's answer ruffled his carefully-styled chestnut hair. "Andi Patronelli was the best thing to ever happen to that two-bit bum, all right? You leave her out of this."

Lilly's eyebrows lifted at his sudden outburst. "Sounds like it really pissed you off, him makin' a mockery of the job the two of you were doin' for us."

"I've put three years in on this. Three years of my life, _gone_." Parker's forest green eyes flashed briefly before he dropped the curtain on his emotions. "An opportunity which I do appreciate, since I'd much rather have spent the time at P3 than behind bars."

"All the more reason for sloppiness to piss you off," Lilly leaned in closer. "That why you parked outside Shane's apartment for an hour and a half the night he disappeared?"

"Rush." Nichols sounded quietly displeased, and Lilly shot him a questioning glance. Okay, fine, so she'd jumped ahead a bit in the script. But Parker's defenses were starting to crack. He was angry. Anger led to carelessness. This was her chance.

Parker folded his arms across his chest. "What proof do you have of that?"

"We got an eyewitness, Parker. Vehicle registration records led us right to you."

"Doesn't prove I killed him."

"So what happened? You decide the argument you had with Shane that day wasn't finished?" Lilly's whole body thrummed with anticipation, just like it had hundreds of times in this very room, with hundreds of different suspects. She knew what it felt like, what it _tasted _like, to move in for the kill. "Maybe you had more you wanted to say to him, only maybe you decided it'd be best to take it outside those glass walls at P3."

"_Rush." _Nichols' voice held a note of urgent warning. She flicked him a brief glare, then dismissed him from her mind and turned her focus back to Parker.

"Things heat up, he winds up dead. Maybe you didn't mean for it to happen. Maybe it was self-defense. You talk to us, Parker, tell us what happened, we might be able to work somethin' out with the DA."

But to her chagrin, she could see the window of opportunity sliding closed. Parker's eyes darted from her to Nichols and back again. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute. Am I under arrest?"

"No, sir," Nichols replied with a smile. "We're just havin' a conversation."

"Well, good." Parker regarded them both with a cold look, then stood up to leave. "Because I'm done havin' it."

* * *

Moments later, Lilly stormed out into a deserted squad room, Nichols close on her heels.

"Dammit, Rush." Her normally calm partner slapped his notebook onto a nearby desk. "I told you not to push it with this guy."

Lilly whirled to face him. "He looks good for it, Tom. What the hell was I supposed to do?"

"You're supposed to remember you're not a murder cop anymore, you're a federal agent. We have to think big picture." He spread his hands. "_Big."_

"So's that mean Shane Lucas doesn't matter? We might have just let the guy who killed him walk outta here, and that's not important?"

Nichols sighed and leaned against the desk. "Look, Rush. I wanna catch this son of a bitch as much as you do. But what you have to remember is that Ericksen is the key to a three-year investigation. If we lose him, we lose Connor Thompson, we lose P3…we lose a lot more than just this."

Lilly gave a bitter laugh. "Oh, and that's supposed to help Shane's mother sleep at night? 'Sorry, Sheila, we're pretty sure we know who did it, but we can't touch him because of the _big picture_.'"

"Lilly," Nichols said softly. "I get it. I know you don't think I do, but I do."

"You do." Lilly eyed him with skepticism.

"I was a homicide detective for eight years. Where you are right now?" He offered a small smile. "That's where I was, too, when I started with the Bureau. I got used to it, and so will you. I promise you that."

_You'll get used to it. _That had been Nichols' mantra from the beginning. And, as she jumped through the hoops of life as a freshman agent, of being the new girl all over again and learning the ropes of a job that was difficult and demanding in ways she'd never imagined, she'd clung to that promise. But now, looking into Nichols' blue eyes, eyes that suddenly seemed hardened and detached, Lilly began to realize that she might never get used to it. The churning discomfort in her stomach every time her partner mentioned the 'big picture' might never go away.

And on the heels of that, another thought. Did she even want it to?

For the first time since signing on with the FBI, she wasn't sure.

* * *

The sun had just sunk below the skyscrapers of Center City when Scotty stripped off his tie, stuffed it into his coat pocket, and relished the kiss of cool, cigar-scented air that greeted him when he walked into Jones'. The Smash Mouth song thumping from the sound system, the clink of glasses and smack of pool balls, and the general din of conversation were music to his ears, a balm to his troubled soul.

In truth, the day had gone a good deal better than yesterday, due, in no small part, to his avoiding the squad room, and Lilly, as much as possible. Staying away from the memories, from the feelings, from _her_, made him feel, for the first time since the unwelcome jolt of her arrival, that he had his head screwed on properly. He hoped it'd be enough to enable him to face her tonight, if, in fact, she was even here. Which, upon approaching the squad's usual booth, he saw immediately that she wasn't.

Suppressing a sigh of relief, he slid into the booth and undid the top couple buttons of his dress shirt. "Evenin', gents."

Nick and Will chorused their greetings, but Kat, who was plucking the lime wedge from the gigantic margarita the waitress had just slid in front of her, cleared her throat and shot him a dark glare.

"And lady," he amended with a nod.

Kat popped the lime into her mouth and smirked her satisfaction, the resultant bright green smile…well, decidedly unladylike. He had to grin.

The waitress, a comely, curvy brunette named Sydnee who always seemed to be working on First Thursdays, smiled brightly as she slapped a white cocktail napkin onto the well-worn wood of the table in front of him. "The usual, Detective Valens?"

Rolling his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, Scotty grinned up at her. "On the rocks tonight, Sydnee."

"Don't blame you, Detective. It was pretty…hot today."Her eyes wandered over him for a moment before she sashayed off to the next table.

As if on cue, Vera leaned across the table, a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes. "You tap that yet? That chick is a slam dunk." Vera elbowed Jeffries, who flashed him an annoyed glance and reached for his brandy.

"Mmm." With a shrug, Scotty fished a cigar out of his shirt pocket. He'd had his share of slam dunks over the years. Usually the same type of woman: long, softly curled hair, nice figure, just the right amount of makeup. All softness and curves, no edges. Nothing sharp enough to cut his heart or slash at his sanity.

In other words, the polar opposite of Lilly.

His scotch, accompanied by an eyeful of Sydnee's generous bosom, appeared in front of him. "Thanks, sweetheart."

Sydnee smiled, then sauntered away, and Scotty busied himself with lighting his cigar. Nicky was right; she would be a slam dunk. And maybe…maybe a slam dunk was what he needed. After all, he and Lil had decided, years ago in a hotel hallway in Nashville, that maybe being a good cop meant being a lone wolf. He didn't like that, didn't want to think his future was down to a series of meaningless one-night stands, especially when the one for whom his heart beat was standing just a couple feet in front of him, looking as sweet and delicious as a basket of fruit in those adorable pajamas of hers…but she might have been right. Maybe all he'd have in life were the Charlenes.

And Sydnee?

Sydnee was definitely a Charlene.

"Buncha Neanderthals," Kat muttered. Scotty glanced over to see her glaring daggers in his direction and dropping the sucked-dry skeleton of the lime back into her cavernous margarita glass.

Predictably, Vera fired back with a snarky retort, Kat took the bait, and Scotty leaned back and let the din of their bickering wash through his ears until it faded to a background hum. Stretching out his legs, he puffed his cigar and sipped his scotch, the burnished mingling of flavors on his tongue starting to unravel the tension in his muscles. Bit by bit, he felt himself unwinding, the cigar and the scotch serving to transport him somewhere high above the bar, above the clouds, above all of it, just floating…floating…

"Hey, guys."

Falling…

It was like he was dreaming, plummeting back to earth in a graceless nosedive. Right before he caught a snootful of rocks, he'd gasp, open his eyes, and hug the bedclothes out of sheer gratitude for a solid surface.

But this time, when he opened his eyes, all he saw was the crash.

* * *

"Well, well. Look who bothered to show up." Vera tried to inject some gruffness into his gravelly voice, but the twinkle in his eyes told Lilly the truth.

Across the table, with a cigar in his left hand and a half-empty glass of scotch just beyond the reach of his right, Scotty was blinking up at her. He looked like he'd either been napping or taking a mental vacation to Tahiti, she couldn't tell which, but he didn't look any too pleased to see her. Not that she expected anything different.

"Didn't know we invited the Feds to First Thursdays now," he commented.

"All murder cops, past and present." Jeffries' voice, though buttery-smooth as always, contained a hint of reproach. He flicked a disapproving glance in Scotty's direction, which, although nowhere near as lethal as the glare Kat was shooting him from the other end of the table, still made Scotty lower his gaze and look slightly guilty. Seemingly satisfied, Jeffries turned toward Lilly, all smiles. "Glad you could make it, Lil. Pull up a patch of booth."

"Thanks." Lilly started to sit down, but realized too late that the only 'patch of booth' was right next to Scotty. With a brief, unreadable glance, he slid over a few inches to make room for her, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he lifted the glass to his lips and drained the rest of his drink.

What the hell was his _problem? _Was he jealous of her new job? Was he still angry with her about Christina? Was he…no, that couldn't be it. Nichols couldn't be right…could he?

"Here you go." The waitress appeared with another beer for Vera, then glanced around and met her eyes with a surprised smile. "Well, Detective Rush! Haven't seen you around here in a while."

"That's because I, uh…moved to D. C.," Lilly replied.

"Oh, quit bein' modest." Kat elbowed her, then lifted her stadium-sized margarita glass in a silent, slightly ungainly toast. "What she means is, she's a goddamn Federal Agent now."

The waitress's smile widened. "Well, congratulations, _Agent _Rush. What can I bring you to drink tonight?"

"Just a beer. Whatever's on tap."

"You got it." The waitress scribbled on her notepad before fluttering decidedly coy eyes in Scotty's direction. "Another scotch, Detective Valens?"

He handed her his empty glass with an equally flirtatious grin. "Keep 'em comin', sweetheart."

Suppressing a chuckle, Lilly wished with all her might that Nichols were here to see that little scene play out, to be proven wrong in person. When Scotty Valens saw someone he wanted, he went after her, consequences and boundaries be damned. Hell, if Frankie Rafferty's marriage vows hadn't slowed him down, she didn't suppose anything would. And that come-hither smile he'd just pulled out of his pocket and slapped onto his face? She'd seen that damn thing dozens of times, always aimed at buxom brunettes, like Bambi the Bouncing Barmaid over there. Never at her.

So as good as her partner usually was at reading people, Nichols had missed the mark on this one. Whatever Scotty's problem was, it wasn't…_that. _Scotty himself had just confirmed it.

"So how's life at the Bureau?" Vera asked. "Got anything interesting to spill, or is it all _classified_?"

Leaning back in the booth, Lilly spent the next several minutes regaling her colleagues with tales of her first four months at the Agency, beginning with the first job she and Nichols had worked, during which they sank up their shins in swamp muck in the Florida Everglades, and ending with the Irish mob-related case they'd just worked last week in Boston. While she talked, Scotty toyed with his cigar, occasionally sipped his drink, but was otherwise mercifully silent. Maybe he was taking another mental trip to Tahiti. She didn't know. Nor did she care. She was here, with her friends, and he wasn't trying to ruin it. For now, that was enough.

When the conversation hit a lull, Lilly took a sip of her beer and let the cool, citrusy refreshment of the beverage wash away the cloying remnants of the day's heat. "All right. Enough about me. What's going on around here?"

"Workin' our asses off," Vera groused.

"More with less," Kat confirmed. "That's the PPD way."

As Vera raised his mug and nodded toward Kat, Lilly arched a brow. "So they're not fillin' my spot?"

Jeffries shrugged. "Heard Boss talked with a couple guys, but then the Department issued a hiring freeze."

"Ouch." Chasing away a sudden and alarming amount of relief with a healthy gulp of beer, she thunked the mug onto the table and fixed the group with a bright smile. "So what else is new with you guys?"

"Well, I dunno about the rest of you, but I got somethin'." With a sly smile, Vera reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black velvet box.

Kat's eyes grew almost as large as her margarita glass. "You bought it?"

"Yep." Vera cracked the box open to reveal a modest diamond solitaire, the stone brilliant even in the dim lights and cigar-smoke haze. "Whaddaya think, Lil?"

Lilly flashed a teasing smile. "Well, Nick, I'm flattered, but…"

"Oh, you wish." Vera rolled his eyes.

"Guess that answers my question about how serious things are with you and Megan."

Vera snapped the box closed and stuffed it back into his pocket. His grin was answer enough.

"So's this the same Megan you were in love with back in high school?" Lilly asked over the rim of her beer mug.

"That's the one." The adoration in Vera's eyes was heart-meltingly obvious. "We worked her sister's case a while back, remember?"

Lilly paused, the mug halfway to her lips. "Sloane. Yeah."

"Are you…sure about this, Nicky?" Scotty leaned forward in the booth, the lines on his forehead deepening as he looked across the table. "I mean, yeah, I'm…happy for you and all, but…four months? And you got a ring already?"

"Shoulda been Meggie all along, Scotty." Vera's expression grew almost wistful. "Me and her…we've wasted enough time."

"Well, I think that's great." Filled with joy, Lilly raised her mug, and Vera clinked his against it. "Congratulations. I had no idea it was that serious."

Next to her, Scotty stiffened. "Well, how would you? Ain't like you bothered to keep in touch."

"_You _keep in touch with _her_?" Kat retorted. Scotty shot her a brief glare and reached for his drink.

"So where is Megan tonight, anyway?" Jeffries' attempt to steer the conversation back to safer territory was obvious, and Lilly could've kissed him.

"School starts next week," Vera replied. "She's up to her eyeballs in lesson plans and state standards and tryin' to figure out how to make a buncha hormone-crazed teenage morons care about American history." Taking a swig of beer, he aimed a significant glance in Kat's direction. "But at least Meggie's been to First Thursdays. When you gonna bring your mystery man?"

Lilly followed suit. "Mystery man?"

Kat rolled her eyes. "His name's David. He teaches high school English to at-risk inner-city youth. Plays the guitar. He's…" she sighed. "Disgustingly perfect."

Vera snorted over the rim of his mug. "So what the hell's he doin' with you?"

Kat tried to glare at him, but the grin tugging at the corners of her lips lessened the effect.

"Guess they really are teachin' you somethin' down there at the Bureau." Jeffries smiled. "That's more dirt than we've gotten outta her in two months."

"Yeah, what gives?" Vera demanded.

"Lil's a girl." With a shrug, Kat tossed back the remainder of her margarita and set her glass down in triumph.

"What about your lady love, Will?" Vera turned to look at Jeffries.

What? Will, too?

"Lena's singin' at The Blue Note tonight, as usual." Jeffries' eyes twinkled. "Sends her regards."

Lilly's astonished eyes darted around the group. "Wow, so I leave town, and now everyone's all coupled up?"

"Pretty much," Scotty spoke up next to her. She watched him swirl the scotch in his glass, trying to discern from his expression whether the epidemic of romance had spread to him, and wondering why the hell she cared.

"So what about you, Lil?" Kat asked, with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

Vera's head swiveled in her direction. "You gettin' some action down there in the District? Dish."

"Yeah, Lil." The voice next to her was as scorched and bitter as the office coffee. "You seein' anyone? Or are you...still havin' a three-way with those mutant cats?"

His vicious words sucked all the air from the room. Conversation stopped, the pool game in the background stopped, it seemed that even that the music stopped, although Lilly was pretty sure that was just her imagination. She couldn't breathe from the force of his blow; all she could do was stare at him in utter incredulity. To his credit, she could see in his eyes at least a dim awareness that he'd hit below the belt. There may have even been a hint of contrition in their depths, but she was too furious to care.

In a swift, fluid motion, Lilly chugged the last two swallows of her beer, slammed the glass on the table, and tossed her napkin next to it. "All right. That's it." Avoiding everyone else's eyes, she stood up from the booth and stormed toward the back room, her vision blurred by the reddish haze of her fury. A few paces away from the group, she stopped and turned around to make sure Scotty had gotten the hint and was following her.

He hadn't.

She stormed back.

"Valens." Her voice was an icy hiss. "Back room. Now."

This time, he got the message.


	8. Dynamite

**Disclaimer: **Still not my characters. Doesn't mean I don't want to throttle them sometimes, though.

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

**Dynamite**

His stomach churning, his jaw clenched so tightly it made his teeth ache, Scotty downed a healthy portion of the fresh glass of scotch Sydnee had slid in front of him moments before, tossed his napkin onto the table, and rose from the booth to follow Lilly. She was several paces ahead of him, her blonde ponytail bouncing in an angry counterpoint to her furious footsteps.

"'Bout time," he heard Vera say behind him, and Kat muttered a string of words, long and colorful, that began with "jack" and ended with "ass." He couldn't exactly ascertain what other insults and expletives she'd put in the middle, but whatever they were, he was well aware that he deserved them.

It was a cheap shot. Bush league. He was as stunned by his acerbic, cat-related comment as Lil had been, but he could no more have stopped the words than he could've stopped the jealous fire that roared to life in his chest when Vera asked if she was seeing anyone. That fire had incinerated common sense, decency, and all thoughts of everything except how much it hurt to picture her with anyone other than him.

Upon reaching the back room, he shut the door with more force than necessary, but not as much as he'd wanted to use, and faced his blonde adversary head-on. Her jaw was set; the icy daggers in her eyes had melted into livid blue flames.

Immediately, he went on the offensive. "So are you?"

"Am I _what_?"

"Seein' anyone?"

Lilly spat out a bitter laugh. "Yeah. My partner. Hot and heavy. You happy now?"

Scotty chuckled and played along with her little ruse. "Ain't he married?"

"Didn't stop _you_."

Oh, what, now she was flinging _Frankie_ back in his face? Frankie, who he hadn't been with in over a year? "What the hell is this about?"

"Funny; I was just about to ask you the same thing." Her voice fairly crackling with anger, she stepped toward him. "I'm gone four months, and you can't even be civil to me for one goddamn evening? I got no idea what the hell your problem is, but whatever you gotta say to me?" She spread her hands wide, offering herself as a target. "You say it. Right here, right now. This—this spoiled brat, six-year-old jackass bullshit ends _tonight." _

Scotty blinked in surprise at her outburst. "What, so we can pretend like everything's back to the way it was?"

The flames in her eyes banked slightly.

"Cause that ain't how it works, Lil. You don't get to just waltz in here and pick up right where you left off."

"Looks like you're the only one who thinks that, Scotty." She tossed her head, her ponytail swishing against the pale blue fabric of her shirt." Nicky, Will, Kat, Boss…they've all let it go, but _you? _ You're acting like I'm a stranger."

"Maybe you are." He indicated the badge at her belt, its golden sheen taunting him even in the dim light of the back room. "You got this - this bright, shiny new badge, this new job, new title, new _life."_

Tilting her head to the side, Lilly studied him with an inscrutable expression. "So you're jealous."

"Jealous." So close, and yet so far. The irony almost made him laugh. "Of you? No."

"Then _what_?" She flung her arms wide, then let them drop to her sides. "I'm an _adult_, Scotty. I don't need your permission to take a job. A job I happen to_ like. _One I'm damn good at."

He closed his eyes against the onslaught of emotions. "It…it ain't just a job, Lil, it's…"

"It's _what?" _

"You _left!" _The words exploded from his lips before he had a chance to censor them; the volume of his exclamation made her flinch. "You left, and you forgot about us, like I—like _we_ meant nothin' to you."

Lilly blinked. "C'mon, Scotty. You know that's not true."

"Yeah? Coulda fooled me."

The wounded look on her face wounded him right back. He had to look away, focusing his attention instead on the crimson and gold swirls in the carpet.

When, after a long, heavy silence, she spoke again, her voice was soft and thick. "Scotty…you meant...you _all _meant...you're everything to me. You were my family when I didn't have any, and you're still…" she broke off and swallowed hard. "You act like this was an easy decision for me, and it _wasn't_."

One hand on his hip, the other dragging through his hair, Scotty hazarded a glance in her direction. "Then why the hell didn't you just…stay here? Where you belonged?" He sounded like a six-year-old again. He didn't care.

"Because I wanted _more_." Her eyes were wide. Pleading with him to understand. "I—I didn't even know this job was out there until Cavanaugh asked me to help him with that case up in New York, all right? And at first, I didn't think I could leave, but…but the idea of bein' able to use federal resources to find the truth not just in Philly, but all across the country? Scotty, how could I have said no?"

He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

"And..and I know the timing wasn't perfect. With Christina, with the baby, with…" she shook her head. "But this job wasn't gonna be around forever. The Bureau's got an age limit for new recruits, and believe it or not—" she broke off with a chuckle—"I'm at the top end of it. This was my chance, Scotty. My _one_ _chance_. I didn't wanna spend the rest of my life…wonderin' what if." She looked deep into his eyes, her own veiled with unshed tears. "I wanted more. And I shouldn't have to apologize for that. To you or anyone."

Looking at her made the lump grow bigger and bigger. "And you think I didn't?"

Lilly frowned. "Didn't what?"

"Want more."

"What the hell are you _talking_ about?" Her frown deepened. "I heard Yates tried to get you to sign on, too, and you weren't interested."

He studied her face as best he could, emotions warring inside him. "Did you really not know?"

"Know what, Scotty?" She looked slightly alarmed.

"That I...I didn't…want you to go. I wanted more. With you. I—I wanted more with you."

Oh, he was in dangerous, dangerous territory. His heart was hammering so loudly he was pretty sure she could hear it from where she stood. The words he wanted to say were bubbling, boiling up inside him, just as they had dozens of times before, only this time, they were so strong, so violent, he wasn't sure they could be denied.

An odd look crossed her porcelain face, one that even in the full light of the interview room, completely sober and with a clear head, he wouldn't have been able to read, and now, in the dimness of the back room at Jones', with no small amount of scotch in him, he didn't have a chance in hell.

After years of being trapped, pent-up, and imprisoned, his feelings finally broke free.

"Look, Lil, I love you, okay? I _love_ you."

Lilly was silent, her expression unchanged but for a slight widening of her eyes and a small drop of her jaw. It was pretty much the reaction he'd always pictured.

Now that the gates were open, now that the first wave of words had rushed up from his heart, stormed the back of his throat, and forced their way out of his stubborn mouth, he discovered, to his astonished horror, that there were more. Infinitely more. And now there was nothing to stop them.

"I've been in love with you - outta my mind, head over heels, bat-shit crazy in love with you - for years, Lil. And when you walked out that door four months ago, my heart just…it _broke_." The memory stung his eyes. "I _miss _you, Lil. I miss _us. _Every damn minute of every damn day."

An unsteady hand carved a path through his hair. "I tried to get over you. I tried to forget about you. And I—I…honest to God, Lil, I thought I had. But then yesterday you came in outta the blue, and here you are now, and—and I ain't over you at all. I love you just as much as I ever did, maybe more, and I'm—I'm scared, all right? I'm so fuckin' scared that I'm always gonna feel this way about you, no matter how hard I try not to."

When at last the words dried up, when they were out and floating and free, he released a shaky sigh. His mouth felt like cotton; he found himself wishing for another scotch. Or two. Or three. Or five. Sweat was beading on his upper lip; he brushed it away, then let his trembling hand wander to the back of his neck to try and massage away some of the tension there.

It was over. _Over. _The thing he'd been dreading, dreaming about, planning, avoiding, hoping for, and running away from was over. The words were out. They weren't his to carry around anymore. Weren't his burden. Now they belonged to Lilly, to do with as she wished.

For the moment, she wasn't doing anything. She was just holding his words. Turning them over in her mind, examining them from every possible angle, like the detective she was, through and through. The long silence stretched his nerves to the breaking point.

"You love me."

Her tone indicated that she didn't quite believe him, and that stung. His lips tight against the tears that threatened, all Scotty could do was attempt a sheepish smile.

He could almost hear the wheels in her mind still spinning, fast and furious. "You _love _me."

He blew out a breath. "Yeah, Lil. For whatever it's worth, yeah. I do."

A spark of anger flaring in her eyes was all the warning he got.

"Well, were you ever gonna tell me?" A napkin crumpled in her balled-up fist suddenly sailed through the air, just missing his left ear. "Seven years as partners, and you never said a word_. _What was I supposed to do, Scotty, read your goddamn _mind_?"

"Hey. I didn't wanna lose you. I didn't want you to…shut me out, like you did with everyone else who was stupid enough to say that to you."

Her eyes hardened further.

"What, you think I don't know what happened with those other guys? You think I wanted to be the next in line?" His gaze begged for her understanding. "I was your friend, Lil. Your partner. You _trusted _me_. _I know that ain't somethin' you give lightly, and I didn't wanna go screwin' up what we already had."

"But you didn't give me a chance," she fired back. "You didn't even give me a choice! You—you didn't _fight _for me, Scotty, you just let me leave without sayin' a word."

Returning his attention to the well-worn carpet, he chuckled bitterly. "Ain't like it woulda mattered."

Once more she was silent, only something shimmered in this silence; a small, wild, wiggling little thing that stole its way over the distance between them and hooked itself in his heart.

His head snapped up. "It—it wouldn'ta mattered, Lil. Right?"

What was once wiggling now thrashed and flailed at the look on her face.

"_Would _it have mattered? Are—are you sayin' it mighta—mighta changed somethin' somehow?" His sanity hung in shreds. He felt like he was flying apart. "Are you sayin' there was a_ chance_?"

"Well, how the hell would I know, Scotty?" she demanded. "You never gave us one."

His thudding heart flung itself into the wall of his chest with so much force that it propelled him across the few feet between them. Her long lashes fluttered wide at his approach, but she made no move to back away. Her luscious mouth was open just a fraction, her blue eyes large and searching and inexpressibly beautiful. She was peering into the very depths of him, reading the truth of his words, seeing what he'd never allowed her to see in all the years he'd loved her. Everything was stripped bare beneath that penetrating gaze. He couldn't hide it now if he tried.

A lone tear just beneath her left eye glinted under the weak glow of the single bulb; on impulse, he reached up to brush it away. Her skin was warm and silky smooth, so delicate he feared even the gentle pressure of his thumb might cause it to crack.

He gritted his teeth against the sudden flood of love and desire. It was too much. It was all too much.

And yet it wasn't enough.

With his last remaining molecule of rational thought, Scotty forced himself to look once more into the churning, eddying oceans of Lilly's eyes. Finding nothing there to stop him, he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers.

The onslaught of feeling made him groan. She was delicious. Her mouth was so soft and yielding and—and it just felt so damn _good _he could hardly contain himself. Every cell in his body was suddenly on fire, all but the ones in his knees, which had turned to water, and the only reason he was still standing was because if he allowed himself to collapse, he wouldn't be kissing her anymore.

A soft sound escaped her throat, one of surprise and delight and welcome and probably a few other things he wasn't sure of. Her left hand found his bare forearm, causing nerve endings he didn't even know he had to light up at her feathery, delicate touch. Her fingers roamed up his shirt sleeve, across the top of his shoulder, up the back of his neck, and into his hair. Her nails scraped against his scalp, raising goose bumps on his flesh and causing every synapse in his brain to short-circuit.

And still he wanted more.

He cradled the back of her neck, the silky blonde strands of her ponytail teasing the back of his right hand. His left hand stole around her waist, drawing her into him, and his tongue, encouraged by the paths her fingers were still tracing through his hair, slipped into her mouth.

With a hungry little moan, she twined her tongue around his, pulled him in closer, and he was dying. _Dying. _Dying from pleasure and need and want and love and the fact that he had everything he'd ever dreamed of, everything he'd ever hoped for, right here, right now, in his arms, in the dingy back room of their favorite bar, and she was kissing him with a passion equal to his own. And he didn't think that was possible.

Finally, his lungs demanded air. With a silent curse, he released her lips, trailed the tips of his fingers over her satiny cheek, and leaned his forehead against hers, just breathing. Breathing _her. _She was better than air.

Her breathing was as rough and ragged as his. Their desperate little puffs of air met and mingled in the scant few inches between them, and he marveled at the joining, at not being able to tell where his breaths ended and hers began. Her hands still twined around his neck, and her eyes fluttered downward almost shyly. He couldn't see anything but long lashes, dark and glossy with tears.

And her freckles. Even under that weak, flickering bulb, he could see her freckles.

"Wow," she whispered.

"Lil." Her name felt so good on his lips he said it again. "Lil."

Scotty wasn't sure when he first felt the chill.

At first, it was just a tendril, poking him in the gut. Annoying, but not worth paying attention to. He tried to brush it aside.

But the chill kept coming. He next felt it in her neck. The small of her back. Her slender midsection, still pressed against his. She blinked her eyes several times, as though she was waking up from some dream and remembering where she was, and why, and how none of it was real, and…

Oh, _God._

"Lil?" His voice held a ragged note of pleading.

She stepped back, icy air rushing in to tear at the warmth between them and fling it away. He tried to hold onto it, hold onto _her_, but the magic was gone. It had fluttered off into the distance; he could almost hear the clang of the iron gates behind it.

"Scotty, I…"

He slammed his eyes shut, not wanting to look, not wanting to wake up from the exquisite torture of this dream, because he knew that if he looked at her, he'd see on her face what he heard in her voice.

"It's too late." The words wobbled like the tears he knew were in her eyes. The tears that were in his eyes, too. "I-I can't. Not now. If you'd said somethin' before, y'know…maybe, but now it's just…"

"No, no, c'mon, Lil, please..."

"It's too late for us, Scotty. Whatever might've…" she shook her head, as though even picturing it wasn't worth it. "It's too late."

A shaft of bright golden light from the bar sliced through the room as she yanked the door open and hurried back out, her frantic footsteps a clatter against the parquet floor. He watched her go, the bounce of her ponytail tormenting him, reminding him how, moments before, those same flaxen strands had been playing over the back of his hand, and finally it was too much. Shutting the door with a soft click, he leaned his forehead against the back of it, its coolness a welcome contrast to the scalding tear that had somehow found its way out of his right eye.

On some level, he supposed he'd always known it would end this way, with her leaving and him looking around at the shattered remnants of his heart and wondering how the hell he'd ever manage to piece them back together. He supposed that was why he'd kept his goddamn mouth shut for so long in the first place.

But what he hadn't realized until this moment was how a _maybe _from Lilly could be infinitely more painful than a _no._


	9. You Dropped a Bomb on Me

**A/N: **Thanks for all the reviews, faves, and follows! It thrills me to no end that you all are enjoying this story!

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, yada yada.

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

**You Dropped a Bomb on Me**

Lilly moved in a daze, her frantic feet propelling her around the corner from Jones'. They carried her an additional two blocks before finally slowing to a stop just outside a nightclub, one of those uber-trendy ones that catered to the twenty-something set and changed names every other week. Semi-satisfied that no one she knew would find her here, she leaned against the club's exterior wall, the rough bricks digging into her back through the flimsy barrier of her blouse. Her right hand found support in wrapping itself around the iron stair railing that led to the club's basement entrance.

After a few minutes, the door to the club clattered open and an inebriated-looking foursome spilled up the stairs, accompanied by a blast of cool, booze-scented air and a cacophonous dose of crowd noise and pulsating techno music. The overly gleeful group regarded Lilly with the same questioning looks that Vera and Jeffries and Kat had when she'd streaked past their booth, pausing just long enough to collect her purse and snatch a drink at random off the table. Lilly flashed a tight-lipped, self-conscious smile, but the tipsy quartet had already dismissed her from their awareness as they staggered past to hail a cab.

A moment later, her phone gave an insistent chirrup, and her stomach plummeted to her shoes. Slipping a shaky hand into her pocket, she pressed the button to silence the ringer. It was probably Kat or Nick, giving words to those curious glances. Or worse, Scotty himself...if he hadn't already burst out of Jones' trying to find her. The thought of him tearing up and down the street calling her name made her face crumple; her heart simultaneously soar and sink.

Quickly, she abandoned her spot near the stair railing and ducked around the corner into an alley, where she closed her eyes, leaned against the wall once more, and just listened, both hoping for and dreading the sound of her name on the slight breeze. But all she heard was the swish of traffic, her own panicked pulse, faint thumps of music from inside the club, and the soft clink of ice in the glass she still clutched in her left hand.

That ice was the only thing cool on this night. The late-summer air was thick and soupy, gluing stray strands to her neck and making sweat trickle down her back. Inside her was a simmering, molten brew of thoughts and feelings and questions, so chaotic she could hardly breathe, let alone make any kind of rational sense of it. Condensation dripped over her fingers, and the ice cubes clinked again as she lifted the glass and pressed it to her forehead. She took a moment to relish the shock of its coldness, then downed a hefty gulp of whatever liquid the glass contained.

It was Scotty's drink, she realized too late. The deep, earthy flavor of his cigar clung to the rim of the glass, and beneath it, a hint of Scotty himself. It was like he was kissing her all over again. With a soft epithet, she yanked the glass away, even as her traitorous tongue insisted on lapping up every last molecule of him from her lips.

Oh, God, that kiss. That _kiss._

With a quiet groan, Lilly rolled her lower lip between her teeth and let her head fall back to thump softly against the bricks. Her mouth still tingled, her skin still felt scorched everywhere his hands had touched it, her heart still burned within her. That fiery kiss, his heated embrace, the smoldering look in his eyes, and those _words_…he'd seared his mark onto her, leaving her shaken. Stirred.

Both.

She'd be lying if she said she'd never thought about kissing Scotty. There'd been a handful of occasions over the years, usually late at night when the loneliness was almost more than she could bear, when she'd wondered if all that barely-concealed passion her partner carried around with him at work extended beyond the walls of police headquarters. But she'd always silenced those thoughts the moment they surfaced. He was her partner, after all. Off limits, for that reason and several more.

And even if he weren't, given their respective track records when it came to relationships, it would've been a fling at best. No doubt a torrid one, with lots of sneaking around and inappropriate behavior in inappropriate places…but a fling nonetheless. One that would've burned itself out after a month or two, incinerating their friendship and leaving nothing but the soot of stilted awkwardness and endless questions from their gossipy co-workers. And that friendship, that innate, soul-deep connection they'd spent nearly seven years forging, was far too precious to risk for a romp in bed, no matter how hot that romp might happen to be.

But to hear him say it now, he'd wanted so much more than a fling. He loved her. _L__oved _her. And his _kiss_…. Oh, she'd never known a kiss like that, never known so many words, so many _feelings_, could be poured into a single kiss, one that left her head spinning and her stomach churning and the rest of her aching for more and more and _more _and how dare he? How _dare _he sit on a bomb like this for God alone knew how long?

Her free hand balling into a fist at her side, Lilly gulped down the rest of Scotty's drink and crunched one of the shrunken ice cubes between her back teeth. He'd had plenty of opportunities. Dozens. Hundreds, even. The countless times they'd driven to interviews together, the late nights at the office, the quick runs to the coffee wagon or the hot dog stand. The laid-back evenings at Jones'. The long road trips, with hours upon hours sealed in that little Taurus with nothing to do but talk.

And there were more than just the everyday moments. There'd been the crisis points, the events that, were this some smarmy prime-time soap, would've forced him to face his true feelings. She'd seen the haunted look in his eyes after she emerged from George Marks' attic; felt his tears on her forehead when she was shot; heard his panicked attempts at reassurance as he helped load her into the ambulance when Moe Kitchener ran her off the road.

All that time, all those chances, and he'd said _nothing?_ And now, now that she'd left town and started a new job, a new _life_, he'd chosen _now _to tell her he_ loved_ her?

Would he have even told her tonight if she hadn't called him out? Or would he have just kept needling her with cold looks and even colder comments, keeping that fire, that passion, that—that _love, _locked inside, never to see the light of day? How much could he really have loved her, anyway, if he never planned to do anything about it?

Lilly heaved a frustrated sigh and drained the last of the ice from the glass. Scotty had been right about one thing. They couldn't go back to the way things were.

Whatever they were before, whatever they might have been…it was too late.

* * *

"Lil's been gone a while."

Vera glanced up to see Kat eyeing him with an odd, pointed expression, her index finger tracing lazy circles around the rim of her water glass. Her elaborately casual remark was the first stab at conversation anyone had made since Rush blew through the bar like a blonde tornado, swiping at her cheeks and muttering something about a work emergency. The break in the thick, uncomfortable silence was welcome, but he could've done without that unnerving look Kat was giving him.

Avoiding her eyes, Vera leaned forward and grabbed a potato skin off the platter Will had ordered moments before in an obvious, though still appreciated, attempt at distraction. "Yep."

"Mmm-hmm." To his right, Jeffries sipped his brandy.

Kat looked from Vera to his partner and back again, clearly unimpressed with the level of dialogue that had just been achieved. "And Scotty's still back there."

"Yep." Vera popped the potato skin in his mouth whole, then wrapped his fingers around the frosty handle of his beer mug, trying to decide whether his colleague's lingering absence was a good sign or a bad one.

"Mmm-hmm," Jeffries agreed.

Kat tossed them both another impatient glare. "Well, don't you think someone should go check on him?"

"Nope," Jeffries replied easily. "He'll come out when he's ready."

"If he's even still here," Vera added. "Maybe he went out the back door."

"Besides, whatever she said to him back there…" Jeffries swirled the brandy in his glass. "Gotta say he had it comin'."

"No kiddin'. After what he said about her cats?" Reaching for another potato skin, Vera suppressed an involuntary shudder at the memory of those cats, cats whose missing eyes and limbs had given him a serious case of the creeps the first time he'd encountered them. He'd never understand why Lilly Rush felt compelled to take in special-needs cats, but even he knew not to make smart-ass remarks about them. Whatever Scotty's beef with Lil was really about, to take a shot at her cats? Valens was in a whole different league of stupid.

"Well, if that's all that happened, then he'd be back here by now," Kat argued.

"So?"

"_So, _I just think…someone should go make sure he's all right."

"Well, we ain't gonna stop you." Jeffries lifted his brandy to his lips.

With a look of weary exasperation that suggested she'd had it up to _here _with the idiots she was forced to put up with on a daily basis, Kat hoisted herself out of the booth.

Vera grinned up at her. "He'll probably need another scotch, too."

"That's goin' on your tab, then." Kat flashed a sardonic smile, then sauntered off to the bar. He could practically _feel _her gloating.

Jeffries turned toward him, a teasing twinkle in his eyes. "Smooth, Nick. Real smooth."

Vera responded with a dark look. "Oh, bite me."

* * *

Scotty wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting here, slumped next to the wall, his arms draped across his knees, his backside starting to go numb. His watch was right there, perched jauntily atop his wrist, but he couldn't be bothered to look at it. Frankly, he didn't want to know. Didn't want to know how long it had been since everything he thought he knew had crumbled to dust.

He rubbed his forehead with the heels of his hands, trying to relieve the beginnings of a pounding headache. Did…did it really happen? Did his feelings finally force their way out of his mouth? Had he really looked into Lilly's oceanic blue eyes and—and _said _it?

Had he really kissed her? Had she really kissed him? Like _that?_

And then…had she really slipped from his arms and knifed him with those words, words that were so far beyond anything he'd ever imagined hearing from her, words he couldn't _stop _hearing? Even now, a whole chorus of Lillys chanted them in his head like a religious incantation.

_Scotty…it's too late._

_It's too late._

_Too late._

_If you'd said somethin' before, then…maybe…_

_Maybe._

_Maybe._

This had to be a dream. Some twisted hoax conjured up by his sadistic subconscious. Any minute now, his eyes would fly open and he'd find himself blinking up at that saggy, water-stained ceiling he kept meaning to get his landlord to do something about. Relief would whoosh through his veins at the cozy familiarity of his bedroom, the cool cotton tangle of his sheets, the sound of the coffee maker in the kitchen spluttering to life. He'd thank God that he hadn't really spent the better part of two days being an insufferable jackass to the woman he loved more than anything in the world, hadn't really poured out his heart to the one person who couldn't, or wouldn't, ever return his feelings. Wouldn't spend the rest of his days tormenting himself with the fiery memory of that—that _kiss_. And then, with a self-deprecating chuckle, he'd swing his legs over the side of the bed, make a pact to never again let Vera talk him into Geno's at two in the morning, then grab a shower and some coffee and get on with his day.

But when his curious tongue snaked out of his mouth and skated along his bottom lip, he was greeted with traces of a light, citrusy ale, underpinned with an intoxicating sweetness. One he could only know as Lilly.

Yes, the taste of her on his lips was real.

Which meant the fresh, clean, slightly floral scent clinging to his clothes was real, too.

The pounding of his heart was real, the thrum of frustrated need in his body was real, and the pain in his gut where she'd plunged in the knife with _it's too late _and then given it a twist with_ maybe_…well, that was real, too. So real he could hardly breathe.

Waves of helplessness crashing over him, he dropped his head onto his forearms and fixed his vision onto the worn patch of carpet triangled by his limbs. It was all real. All of it.

He wasn't going to be lucky enough to wake up this time.

Just then, the door creaked open. The din from the bar spilled into the quiet, and the patch of carpet between his shoes suddenly shone with a shaft of almost painfully bright yellow light.

That was when the small, obnoxious part of him that hadn't quite forgotten how to hope stirred to life, poking him in the chest and yapping like an overeager puppy. _Maybe it's Lil. Maybe she came back. Maybe she's havin' second thoughts. Maybe…maybe…maybe…_

He looked up.

It wasn't Lilly.

Stupid _maybe._

Fabric rustled as Kat crossed the small room, took a seat on the floor next to him, and wordlessly held out a glass of scotch. Scotty eyed the amber swirls of liquor hugging crystalline cubes of ice, then glanced up into the shining brown eyes of his partner.

"How'd you know I needed that?"

The smile on her lips was perfect; compassionate while somehow managing to stay well away from the Sympathy Zone. "Because I saw Lil."

Wholly unprepared for the bile that rose in his chest at the sound of that name, Scotty grabbed the glass from Kat's outstretched hand and tossed the scotch down his throat in a single scorching gulp. He'd hoped to burn away every last trace of Lilly's lips, but as he lowered the glass and realized that he may well have been successful, that he may have indeed washed away all he would ever have of her, he was seized with sudden panic and an overwhelming desire for just one more taste.

Of course, it was too late for that. Too late for everything.

_Scotty, I—I can't. It's too late._

Tears stinging his eyes, he swiped at them with the back of his wrist, then set the glass on the floor. Maybe his partner wouldn't see the tears, or, if she did, maybe she'd allow him to blame them on the booze.

"You wanna talk?" she asked.

No. He didn't.

Yes. He did.

"I dunno, Miller." The words squeezed out around the lump in his throat. "Maybe."

_Maybe _was the wrong word to use.

_Maybe _lanced his knife wounds with a fresh wave of pain. _Maybe _brought a bubble of uncomfortable laughter to the surface. _Maybe _made him bite his lips to keep them from trembling.

"Oh, Scotty." His partner's hand found his back, and that was all it took. His head fell to the side, onto her shoulder, into her supportive embrace.

Maybe letting Kat Miller see him cry wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Maybe she'd have some wisdom for him. Maybe she'd be able to help him exist within the boundaries of this harsh new reality.

_Maybe._


	10. The Weight

**A/N: **I would be remiss if I didn't thank my fantastic friend and beta reader, Collider, who put in overtime on this chapter.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. But if the Feds offered me a Suburban, I probably wouldn't turn it down.

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

**The Weight**

"Well, it's official. Tonight blows." Vera took a large gulp of beer and returned the glass to the table with a thunk.

Will couldn't argue. What had started out as a relaxing evening, a chance to kick back, enjoy a few drinks, and catch up with an old friend, had ended up fraught with _sturm und drang_. Scotty had been acting like a bull-headed jackass for two days, poking mercilessly at Lilly with a stick, until she finally snapped and summoned him to the back room. Will wasn't certain what had happened behind those closed doors, but based on Lilly's flustered demeanor when she came out a few minutes later and the fact that Scotty had yet to emerge, he was pretty sure he didn't want to know.

Miller had gone back with a fresh glass of scotch half an hour ago. Maybe she was helping. He hoped so.

Vera's phone vibrated against the table, and Will couldn't help but notice the spark in his partner's eyes, the slight grin tugging at his lips when he flicked his thumb across the screen to read the text he'd just received.

"Megan done for the night?" Will asked knowingly.

"Yep." Vera swallowed the last of his beer. "Which means so am I."

Quickly, he signaled the waitress and paid his tab, and Will had to smile. He remembered countless evenings in this very bar when the trill of Nick's phone was met with annoyance rather than glee; excuses for staying longer rather than a hasty exit.

Will watched his partner head for the door with a distinct bounce in his step, then slipped some cash into the slender black folder containing his bill. After a moment's hesitation, he took care of Scotty and Kat's tabs, too, then donned his hat, left the bar, and strolled four blocks in the sultry summer air to the dark, cool oasis of soul known as The Blue Note.

He'd stumbled across the place a few weeks after Mary's death, on a frigid, moonless night when the idea of going home to an empty house was too painful, but going to their usual club solo would have been even worse. He'd wandered the streets aimlessly for a while until the faint sound of a saxophone lured him around a corner and through a door, a door that would change his life. The deep indigo haze in the air, the well-aged brandy, and above all, the music, had proven a balm to his aching heart. From then on, whenever the pain became too much to bear, he'd come in, take a table in the back corner, order a brandy, and let that singer's smoky, sensuous voice transport him to a place where it didn't hurt quite so much. Where he could begin to heal.

At some point, though he couldn't exactly say when, Will realized that the music wasn't taking him _away_ as much as it was pulling him _toward_.

It took him a long time to acknowledge what he was feeling, longer to get over the guilt it caused. He still wore his wedding ring, for God's sake. But she was patient with him. As patient as she was with the timing, with the phrasing, with every aspect of the old blues standard that filled the club as he settled into his usual corner table, doffed his hat, and let her voice melt into his heart. She made time stand still, Lena did; she never left a note or ended a phrase until she'd squeezed out every last drop of its goodness, nor did she linger beyond that point. Her timing was always perfect.

Three months ago, he'd finally removed his ring.

The song ended on a long, velvety note from Lena, the sax and the cymbals accompanying her slow fade into oblivion, and then a smattering of applause from the club patrons. Not many here tonight. He knew the crowds would be larger tomorrow night, larger still Saturday. He'd be here then, too.

The bandleader announced a short break, and Lena's eyes scanned the dimly-lit room. When they locked on his, a smile spread slowly across her face. She stashed the microphone in its stand and descended the stairs in front of the stage, the perfect picture of class and grace.

"Hello, Will." Even her speaking voice was music.

"Lena." He captured her hand in his and brushed his lips against the back of it. "Beautiful as always."

"I sing my best when I know you're here."

He grinned up at her as she settled into the chair opposite him. "I feel my best when I know you're here."

"You know, Will..." her eyes were coffee-rich and sparkling with deep joy. "My offer still stands."

His smile widened. "Glad to hear it."

Her hand caressed the back of his, her thumb brushing the place where his ring had resided for almost thirty years. "Unless you need more time..." A small, seductive smile.

In response, he stood up, his hand still in hers, and coaxed her to her feet. She rose, questions in her eyes, but laughed quietly when he pulled her into an embrace and started slowly swaying with her in time to the music. He didn't know what was playing, some canned tune on the sound system that wasn't nearly as good as what he'd just heard…but then again, when she was onstage, he couldn't hold her in his arms and let her fill his senses.

Did he need more time? He'd long since stopped feeling he was being disloyal to Mary; in fact, he knew now that if she could, his late wife would've been whacking him upside the head with a stick and telling him to go for it, to be happy. Mary would've loved Lena, he was sure of it, and somehow, some way, he felt her presence, right there in the club, giving him her blessing.

With a quiet sigh and a small smile, Will pulled Lena even closer. His long, grueling journey was finally at its end. He'd been fortunate enough to have a home with Mary, and now with Lena, he'd come home again.

He'd had enough time, and whatever time he had left, he wanted to spend it with her.

"No, Lena," he said softly against the delicate, chocolaty curve of her ear. "I think the timing's…perfect."

* * *

With a weary swing of his arm, Scotty closed the door of his apartment, then kicked off his shoes, undid the rest of the buttons on his shirt, and tugged it free from the waistband of his pants. Through the large picture windows on the other side of the living room, he saw the twin beams of Miller's headlights sweep around the corner and out of sight.

She'd insisted on driving him home, and even though he was still well short of intoxicated, he hadn't argued. When they reached his place and pulled up to the curb, she'd acted like she was going to walk him up, but he waved her off.

"You sure, Scotty?" Her eyes radiated an almost maternal concern as her black Prius idled in eerie silence. For the life of him, he'd never understand why anyone wanted a car like that, one was so quiet it was almost creepy and had an owner's manual that was basically eight hundred pages of dire warnings of all the ways the damn thing could kill you if you tried to do anything more challenging than change a tire. Where he came from, cars were made to be tinkered with, and the louder the engine growled, the better.

He nodded. "I'll be fine. Just gotta walk it off."

Over the years, that word had developed many meanings, but on this night, "walk" meant "drink." His jaw set with grim determination, he grabbed a glass from the cabinet and a bottle of liquor from the collection scattered atop his bureau. He hadn't looked at the labels; frankly, he didn't care. With a weary sigh, he plopped both bottle and glass onto the kitchen table, sat down heavily, and poured himself a shot.

A wave of tentative tears peeked up over the rims of his lower lids, but Scotty ordered them back to whatever unknown reservoir they'd come from. No. He'd shed enough tears tonight for six lovelorn idiots, and Lilly Rush wasn't worth any more.

Besides, it wasn't her fault. Not really.

He was the one who'd had dozens upon dozens of opportunities to tell her how he felt, and he was the one who'd chickened out every damn time. She was absolutely right; he hadn't given them a chance. He hadn't fought for her. The irony was almost sickening: he'd been in so many fights in his life, so damn many, but for the one that mattered more than any of the rest of them, he wasn't even in the ring. He was just a goddamn spectator, watching from the cheap seats as the woman he loved slipped through his fingers.

And so he drank. He drank for all the mundane, everyday moments when he could've asked her out to dinner or to a movie. He drank for all the tense, anxiety-filled moments when her life was on the line, when he faced the terrifying possibility of a world without her in it. He drank for all the weeks and months after her shooting, when she walked around the office gaunt and pale, looking like she'd survived, but had no idea what for. He drank for all the skirts he'd chased, for Alex and Frankie and all the rest, women who could meet his physical needs, but who could never come close to his heart. He drank because he'd been with Lilly Rush every damn day for seven years, and now it was too late. She was gone.

Except she wasn't.

She was still here, still in Philly, and somehow, he was going to have to face her tomorrow. To see her, to work with her, not wondering what it might be like to kiss her, as he always had before, but _knowing. _Knowing what her lips felt like under his, knowing the sweet torture of her hands on his skin, in his hair, knowing what it felt like to hold her in his arms, if only for a moment.

Knowing it was too late. Knowing he'd had thousands of chances and had blown every last motherfucking one of them.

What the hell was he supposed to do about that?

Well. He'd let Future Scotty figure that out, because Present Scotty? Ha. Present Scotty would be lucky if he made it to his bedroom without tripping over the extra arms and legs he seemed to have sprouted; impertinent limbs that moved whimsically independent of the orders his addled brain was trying to give them.

Somehow, he managed to stagger from the kitchen to the bedroom in one piece and even undress before falling back onto his bed, the stained, saggy ceiling spinning above him in an almost mocking fashion.

His last thought before slipping beneath the merciful waves of oblivion was that Future Scotty, in addition to dealing with his Lilly problem, really, _really _needed to get his landlord to fix the ceiling.

* * *

"Rush!"

Lilly's eyes snapped open at the sound of her name, and her heart lurched up into her throat. He wasn't supposed to be able to find her. Not here. But the thought that he might have come after her…that sent an inexplicable little thrill skimming along the surface of her panic.

But…Scotty hardly ever called her Rush. No one did. Not here. In fact, the only one who did on any kind of regular basis was…Nichols.

Sure enough, there was that sleek black Suburban, pulled up next to the curb in front of the alley. At the visual confirmation, her heart sagged back down into its proper place. Lilly eyed the empty glass she still clutched in her hand, hoping she could blame her seesawing emotions on the liquor it had once contained, then quickly abandoned it on a nearby windowsill, brushed at her clothing, and stepped toward the car.

The windows were rolled down, and Nichols leaned toward the passenger side, the corners of his eyes crinkling his amusement.

"You're a hard woman to find."

"Maybe I…didn't want to be found."

"Yeah, I gathered as much," Nichols said with a soft chuckle.

At the look in his eyes, Lilly pulled her phone from her pocket, stunned to see five missed calls and eight texts, all of them from Nichols. None from anyone else. Her heart sagged further, and with that came a wave of irritation that she even cared, that she was even hoping, or even _thinking _about hoping. She stuffed her phone back into her pocket and forced some brightness into her voice.

"Sorry, Tom. I…got caught up."

Nichols' brows lifted a fraction. "Old times, huh?"

"Somethin' like that." Brushing a chunk of fallen hair behind her ear, she pasted a carefree smile on her face and willed the annoying maelstrom of feelings into silence. "What's up?"

Nichols hesitated, his eyes darting back and forth before landing squarely back on her face. "Get in."

Something in her partner's voice brought a slight shiver despite the heat, and Lilly quickly did as she was told, hopping up into the passenger seat and closing the door behind her. The cool, quiet cocoon of the Suburban, a tangible reminder of her new job, her new life, did much to douse her inner fire.

Her detective antennae quivering, she turned to face Nichols. "What's goin' on, Tom?"

"I got a call from the boss earlier." His tone was crisp. Businesslike. "He's shuttin' this down."

"_What?" _

A soft golden shaft of light from a street lamp illuminated the serious glint in Nichols' eyes. "We got too close to Ericksen, and now he's refusing to cooperate."

"Well, of course he's refusing to cooperate," Lilly argued. "That just means we push harder."

"Not this time."

A car swished past. "What do you mean?"

"Ericksen's attorney has made it clear that the only way he keeps giving White Collar what they need is if we back off the murder investigation."

Lilly's head jerked back in surprise. "Since when do we let murder suspects call the shots?"

"Look, Rush." Nichols' voice was almost lethally quiet. "If we blow this, three years of work goes down the drain. The investigation into P3 is just a few weeks away from being all sewn up. We can get Ericksen on the murder after it's over."

"Yeah, unless he gets immunity for that, too."

Nichols' silence sent a frisson of alarm through her.

"You're not serious." She sought his eyes. "You'd actually give him immunity for murder?"

"One of many possibilities." Her partner's gaze fixed on the quietly hissing air vents for a moment before rising to meet hers. "It's for the greater good."

"So money laundering trumps murder?" Lilly laughed bitterly. "Is there a hierarchy? Should I be writing these down so I don't get confused next time?"

Nichols plopped a hand on top of the steering wheel."It's about more than money laundering, Rush. P3's clinic is a hotbed for illegal performance-enhancing substances. College level all the way up through the pros; players, trainers, coaches. Some huge names are gonna come out, and we have to make sure to dot all our I's and cross all our T's before we move. Ericksen is the only way we do that. So on this scale, yes; widespread illegal activity is a greater concern than a single crime."

Lilly peered at her partner through narrowed eyes. "Not to me."

"Then…maybe you need to think about whether you're wearing the right badge."

His comment hit her like a slug to the gut, and her hand flew instinctively to her shield. She fingered it for a moment, the ornately carved grooves filling her with both calm and contrition.

"I'm sorry, Tom."

"It's all right." His smile seemed forced; the fine lines around his mouth etched a little deeper. "You're so talented I keep forgetting just how new you are."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Good." Nichols seemed to relax a bit. "That's how I meant it."

Lilly smiled. "So what now?"

Nichols reached over his left shoulder for the seat belt. "Well, now, we go back to the hotel, pack our bags, and go home."

"Home." When ASAC Donaldson had said that word yesterday morning, it had teemed with significance, but now, the word was completely devoid of meaning. It landed on her heart with a hollow thud.

"Well, for now anyway." Nichols shifted the car into gear. "We're off to Oklahoma on Monday."

"Oklahoma?" Lilly paused, her seat belt halfway across her chest.

"New evidence in the disappearance of a college student in '98. I'll tell you on the way." A split-second later, she felt those piercing blue eyes on her once more. "Unless you've…got some loose ends to tie up."

Lilly bit her lower lip. It still tasted like scotch and cigar and Scotty, and she once again felt the slow burn of tears. Loose ends. That was rich. There'd been loose ends aplenty when she arrived, more than she'd ever imagined…but now those damn things were tied tight and triple-knotted.

"No. No loose ends."

The steady clicking of the turn signal accompanied Nichols' slight smile as he turned to check for traffic.

"All right, then. Let's go home."

* * *

**A/N:** Lilly thinks there aren't any loose ends. Isn't that adorable?

Need a break from the angst? Check out "Life is a Cabaret," the fluffy little one-shot I posted over the weekend.


	11. Life After You

**A/N: **While Kite called Lilly's white cat "Tripod," as far as I know the cat's real name was never established. As such, I've taken some creative liberties.

**Disclaimer: **I've come up with several relatively clever disclaimers over the years. Pick your favorite.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

**Life After You**

Scotty was lying on top of her. Skin sliding against skin, his hot and smooth. Her eager hands roamed up his back and over the sculpted sweep of his shoulders, tracing the contours of well-formed deltoids and triceps that bunched and rippled with his movements.

"See, Lil?" She felt his words against her cheek. "Told you it wasn't too late."

"Mmmm…I should've listened." His rapid breathing tickled her ear, and she shivered.

"Yeah. You should have." He sounded flirtatiously petulant. "I'm pretty smart, y'know."

"I know." It came out as a groan. His trademark cockiness, once both amusing and annoying, was now strangely, inexplicably hot. Or maybe that was just the way he continued to move against her, to touch her, tease her, torment her…but not to kiss her, which was what her whole body ached for him to do.

Once again, she felt him smirk, this time against her shoulder. The feather-light contact of lips and teeth tore a gasp from her throat.

"Loyal...great cop...ain't too bad to look at…" His voice was low and husky against her sensitive flesh, the words skimming from her collarbone toward the notch at the base of her throat. Her response was a wordless whimper. _Oh, k__iss me, damn you. I know what you're capable of._

"Been told I got a good sense of humor..." He skated down the center of her chest, the whisper of his skin against hers still a delicate, almost ticklish, caress. Lilly wasn't sure how much more of this sweet agony she could endure. She wasn't quite to the point of begging him, at least not out loud, but she was close.

"Modest, too." He brushed enticingly against the swell of her breasts.

Gritting her teeth, she arched to meet him. "Scotty…" _Please, for the love of God, just…kiss…me…_

"You want somethin', Lil?" He did it again, this time with exquisite, maddening slowness.

Her inhibition hung in shreds. "Oh, God, Scotty, _please_."

"Please what?" She could tell by his shit-eating smirk that he knew what she wanted, but he was going to make her _say_ it. Out loud. To him. God. The man was merciless.

"Please…"

"C'mon, Lil. Tell me." His voice was as tender and teasing as his touch.

"Kiss me, Scotty," she whined with what little breath this delicious torture had left her. "Kiss me. _Kiss _me. Like...like you did last night. Just kiss me. Please."

Her fingers tangled in his hair in an effort to coax him to do her bidding…but its texture gave her pause. Scotty's raven locks had grown out long enough for their soft natural waves to take effect, but the strands slipping between her fingers right now were shorter, stick-straight, and free of whatever product he always used to keep them in place.

His body was vibrating with a strange sound, too. A deep, primal sound, almost a growl, but more like a…a purr.

A _purr_?

That didn't seem right.

Curiosity forced Lilly to pry open stubborn eyelids and lift her reluctant head a few inches off the pillow. There, she found herself nose to nose with Olivia, who perched haughtily on her sternum, orange-striped tail twitching with impatience. Lilly yelped in astonishment, then yanked the sheets up over her shoulders.

_Oh, good_, _you're awake_, the cat's expression seemed to read. _Now f__eed me._

With a groan, Lilly closed her eyes and let her head drop back onto the pillow, where she tried to chase after the fleeting fragments of that dream, that really, really _hot _dream, where she and Scotty were just about to—

Wait.

_Scotty?_

"Dammit!" Her shooting bolt upright displaced Olivia, who stalked to the foot of the bed and yowled her disapproval. Lilly shoved unruly blond hair behind her shoulders with a shaky hand that then fluttered to her chest, where her frenzied heartbeat galloped against her palm.

It hadn't happened. Not really. She wasn't even in Philly anymore; she was back home in Washington, with her cats, and Scotty was, thankfully, _not _in her bed. Although he may as well have been, given how vivid that dream was. Good _God. _Apparently the clues she'd unearthed from a single scorching kiss had inspired her subconscious to extrapolate a bit, to come up with a solid lead as to what that fire, that passion, might feel like across her shoulders, her neck, her chest…

_Gah. _Okay. So her subconscious had had its fun. But she was awake now, and fully in control, and she wasn't going to think about this. About him. About him like this. About how one moment could change everything, how three little words and one hell of a kiss could tilt her universe on its axis, could make her feel things and _want_ things and look at every moment of the last seven years in an entirely different light, and...

The alarm clock yanked Lilly's half-crazed mind off the bunny trail it insisted on going down, and she breathed a shaky sigh of relief as she smacked the shrill electronic chirps into silence, then grabbed the victim's photo from its customary spot at the base of the bedside lamp. Surely looking at the winsome face of a college student murdered on her way home for summer break would provide the perspective she needed, the distraction from the untold number of worms that still slithered out of the can Scotty had pried open last night.

But it wasn't Melissa Winters whose photo Lilly found in her hand. It was Shane Lucas.

Bangs puffing up with her heavy sigh, Lilly studied the photo, unable to ignore how Shane's careless sandy hair, brilliant blue eyes, and boyish grin gnawed at her gut. No matter how noble-sounding the reason, leaving a case unsolved, denying justice to a victim who'd waited long enough…that just didn't sit right with her.

Maybe her old colleagues in Philly would still be working the case. Knowing them, they'd interpret any sort of Federal directive to do otherwise as a mere speed bump rather than the roadblock it was meant to be. Lilly gave a slight smile. If there was any way at all to do right by Shane, she knew that squad would find it.

But she couldn't deny that not being able to find it with them had just taken some of the shine off that FBI badge she was so proud of.

Olivia yowled again, echoed by a slightly higher-pitched meow from Casey, her white, three-legged second-in-command. With a wry smile, Lilly slipped the photo of Shane Lucas into some files she needed to take back to the office and swung her legs over the side of the bed. There was no sense dwelling on the past. This was what she'd decided she wanted, and she was damn well going to make the best of it.

"C'mon, girls." The cats' ears perked up at the sound of Lilly's voice. "Let's get breakfast."

Casey and Olivia were already halfway down the hall.

* * *

The fluorescent lights, like thousands of tiny needles pricking his eyes, stopped Scotty in his tracks on the way into the bullpen. Instinctively, he squinted, but even that tiny movement brought a wave of stabbing pain. It was as though a tiny, pissed-off man with a pickax was dwelling just inside his head, swinging the sharp point into the side of his skull at the slightest provocation.

His hand flying to his temple and an involuntary groan escaping his lips, Scotty forced himself to keep walking. He fumbled in his jacket pocket for his sunglasses, but quickly abandoned the quest, not wanting to broadcast to the whole office just how hung over he was. Not that his bloodshot eyes and sickly pallor would be much camouflage.

Upon reaching his desk, he wriggled out of his jacket and tossed it over the back of the chair. The scrape of metal legs on tile floor made him cringe as he pulled the chair out, and the little man with the pickax heaved another mighty swing. Swearing under his breath, Scotty sat down heavily and rubbed his temples. It had been a long time since he'd come to work in such a sorry state. In fact, the only reason he hadn't taken a sick day was that he didn't want to give Lilly the satisfaction. Now, though, knowing she had to be lurking around here somewhere, he was beginning to have second thoughts.

Through eyes squeezed half-shut against the too-bright lights and rays of mocking sunshine, Scotty scanned the office, deciding that a seen threat was better than an unseen one. So far, though, everything was business as usual. Kat and Nick were in the kitchen, deeply embroiled in their daily argument over the morning pastries, while Will was stationed at his desk, filling out paperwork with a mysterious smile on his face.

There was no sign of Lilly. Or her partner, for that matter. Scotty found it odd that, even in his hung-over state, he'd beaten Lil into the office. He could count on one hand the number of times that had happened. Oh, well. Maybe Nichols wasn't a morning person.

Couldn't blame the guy. Mornings were pure evil.

Gingerly, Scotty leaned down and rummaged in the bottom drawer of his desk for the bottle of aspirin he'd kept stashed there for God alone knew how long. Damn things were probably expired by now, but he hoped against hope there was enough juice left in a bottle of pills that were best before…

…August, 2007.

_Dammit._

He shook a couple into the palm of his hand anyway, added a couple extra to compensate for the elderly quality of the medication, then washed it all down with a swig of coffee, which he may or may not have liberally dosed with a hair of the dog before coming in to work this morning.

"C'mon, Miller, I'm hungry!" Vera was all but chasing Kat out of the kitchen, his voice even louder and more grating than usual.

"From the looks of that diamond you were showin' off last night, you gotta fit your ass into a tux sometime in the not-so-distant future." Kat settled into her chair with her hard-won donut and a triumphant smirk. "I'm just lookin' out for ya."

Vera grumbled something incoherent as he sat down at his own desk, but his eyes lit up with a perverse sense of amusement when he saw Scotty. "Well, well! Mornin', Sunshine!"

"Fuck off, Nick."

Scotty felt his partner's appraising eyes flitting over him. "You had anything to eat today?" she asked.

Before he could even consider the question, let alone answer it, a healthy chunk of the donut appeared on a napkin in front of him. The very idea of food, especially that many sugar-coated carbs, sent his stomach roiling, but at the Joker-like smile still plastered across Vera's face, Scotty picked up the donut, took a large bite, and chewed with exaggerated enjoyment. "Thanks, partner."

Vera looked from him to the smirking Kat and rolled his eyes. "Perfect."

"Serves you right," Kat shot back.

"Morning, everyone."

Scotty grimaced. God, even Stillman's voice was louder than usual this morning. He could've sworn he heard Vera snort with quiet laughter, but he couldn't be bothered to check for sure.

Instead, he polished off the rest of the disputed donut, forced his eyes out of their pained squint, and trained them on his boss. Reporting to work hung over hadn't gone so well for him in the past, and Scotty wasn't sure how thick his ice with the lieutenant was at the moment.

"We've had some new developments with the Lucas job." Stillman's steely gaze flitted around the little group.

Vera looked up with a frown. "Hey, where are the Feds?"

"That's one of the developments," Stillman replied. "They're gone."

Scotty's brow creased with his fogged brain's efforts to absorb what the lieutenant had just said. "Wait…gone?"

"Back to D. C. Their ASAC pulled them off this case." Stillman gave a wry smile. "Seems we got a little too close to Parker Ericksen for their comfort."

"Of course we got close to him." Kat looked up at the boss, disbelief etched across her features. "He's our prime suspect."

Stillman rubbed a hand over the top of his head. "Well, sounds like the Feds were hopin' for a different outcome."

"Them and me both, pal," Scotty muttered, teeth clenched.

"So what's the order, John?" Jeffries asked. "Are we supposed to just…let this go?"

Stillman did an about-face and peered at the murder board. "Well, officially, yes."

The predictable splutters of disbelief and outrage drove Scotty's fingers to his temples once more. Mercifully, the lieutenant quieted the din with the wave of a hand.

"_Un_officially…" Stillman turned back toward their little cluster of desks, his expression suggesting he knew exactly how the situation was going to unfold and had already seized control, "…we're still investigating a murder. We need to keep our heads down, fly under the radar, and build the case without Ericksen. Are we clear?"

The boss kept talking, but his words turned into a fuzzy stream of nonsensical syllables as Scotty blinked into his coffee mug, gazing at the bright white reflection of the overhead lights on the deep brown surface of his beverage. Even that version of the light was too bright, dammit.

Lilly was gone. _Gone. _She'd hopped into the waiting chariot of that fancy, Federal-ass Suburban and whisked herself back to D. C., back to her new job, her new life, without even a moment's hesitation.

She hadn't changed her mind.

She wasn't coming back.

Well, then.

He sat there staring into his coffee, dreading the waves of pain he was sure were about to crash over his head like they had four months ago when her empty desk first became a reality, but he was pleasantly surprised when they didn't come. In fact, he…didn't feel much of anything. Just a dull, empty numbness. He supposed he'd reached the point in this particular fight where he'd already absorbed so many punches that this latest blow didn't even register.

Scotty wasn't naïve enough to think this blissful blank feeling would last forever, but for as long as it did, he'd take it and run like hell with it. They had a body and a doer and a massive mess of a case, and he welcomed whatever curveballs that case cared to throw at him. Maybe if he kept his mind occupied with the case itself, he'd be able to forget what havoc it had already wreaked in his life. Maybe having told Lilly and being soundly rejected would finally give him some closure. Maybe somehow he'd emerge from this stronger. Smarter.

_Maybe…_

"Hey. _Scotty._"

It took him a moment to process that Kat was talking to him, and another one to jerk his attention away from his coffee and back to the squad room. The boss had returned to his office, and Vera and Jeffries were nowhere to be seen. Had they already left? How much had he missed? How long had Miller been trying to get his attention, anyway?

He blinked up at his partner, and she came into focus, looking simultaneously concerned, amused, and irritated.

"You okay?" she asked.

A sheepish smile quirked his lips. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."

"Here." She held out a bottle of water, the concern and amusement taking over for the irritation, at least temporarily. "You think that nasty-ass coffee's gonna help this, you're even more hung over than I thought."

"Thanks." The bottle was cold from the fridge and fogged with condensation. He unscrewed the cap and took a few long, grateful swallows, then looked around the largely empty squad room. "And, uh…thanks." He cleared his throat. "Y'know…for last night."

"Sure, Scotty." Kat offered a slight smile. "Anything you need. You know that."

Scotty pushed his chair back, the scraping still setting his teeth on edge, but the tiny man inside his skull must have been placated by either by the past-its-prime aspirin, the doctored coffee, or the cold water. Maybe all three. In any event, his inter-cranial interloper seemed capable now of only the most halfhearted of pickax swings.

As he stood, Scotty summoned what he could of a grin and flashed it in his partner's direction. "I think what I need most right now is to catch the son of a bitch who killed Shane Lucas."

"Think we might be able to do that." His partner's eyes took on a proud shine as she thrust a piece of paper into his hand.

Scotty frowned at the hastily-scribbled notation, still flecked with a bit of sugar glaze. "What's this?"

"Address of another neighbor of Shane's who saw Parker Ericksen's Jeep parked out front during our murder window." Kat shouldered her purse. "May not be able to make the case _with_ Ericksen, but…no one said we can't make the case _around _him."

Grabbing the water from his desk and his jacket from the back of the chair, Scotty followed his partner out, feeling more than a touch of perverse pleasure at charging after this case. Special Agent Rush may have been too high and mighty for a nobody like Shane Lucas, but her old squad certainly wasn't. They'd get out there in the dirt, pound the pavement, and get it done.

And maybe, if Lilly was so willing to skip off to Washington without even a backward glance…then maybe the woman he loved never even existed at all.


End file.
